


Lord help us

by PontiffOfTheDeep



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Angst and Porn, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Gore, Hallucinations, Horror, M/M, Mental Instability, NkStein, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PontiffOfTheDeep/pseuds/PontiffOfTheDeep
Summary: [I lost passion for this so the ending sucks, sorry 😔]The sun's first born had his name erased and was banished from his own home, causing everyone around him to forget who he was. Even his first knight and lover, Ornstein. This story is about his faithful knight coming to collect what is his while trying to recall the memories of his past(Aka Gwyn wiped everyone's memories and Ornstein is desperate to get his boyfriend back)
Relationships: The Nameless King/Dragon Slayer Ornstein
Comments: 19
Kudos: 34





	1. Vanished

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first legit fanfic is... Ooof five years? So do forgive me if there's any mistakes

Ornstein never saw his body as anything but a vessel, a tool even. His body was used to destroy and protect. Protect his loved ones and allies by destroying anything in their path. This body of his however was screaming in agony, he has no idea how long it’s been since he’s properly slept or even sat down. Ornstein didn’t care, he needed this. He needed him. 

  
The day that the nameless king left was the day that ornstein knew his place as a knight, not as a friend or even an ally but just as a tool. He remembers that day now, he didn’t before. The day that Gwyn's first born left after getting his name erased will forever eat away at him before Ornstein finds him. He needs to be forgiven. He needs to remember. He needs to hold on to these memories. No one can take them from him now.  
When he was exiled from anor londo it was more than just kicking him out, it affected everyone. Saying his name got erased would be an understatement of what exactly happened that day. Ornstein can never forgive himself for what he left happen.

  
The clanking of his metal armour didn’t help the anxiety he felt creeping up his back as he walked through the halls of anor londo. The grip on his spear couldn’t get any tighter even if he tried, he shouldn’t though. He’d probably snap it in two if he did. Ornstein was extremely lucky for his helmet in this moment, for covering the look of worry on his face. However It didn’t help in the slightest that he was speed walking through the halls, anyone he passed by gave him a confused look but he didn’t have the time or energy to care right now. All his energy was spent of his thoughts and his fears of what could happen to his beloved prince. 

  
The knight was about to start panicking and snowballing the issue in his head but there was no time, he was right outside the large doors to the prince’s room. The halls around him were pristine and tidy, probably the work of the maid’s that worked here which were probably the women he was passing by before as well. The floors were looking lazily done but it’s not like he’s going to make a fuss just about how clean the floors are- he’s getting off topic. The second he realises that he’s lost focus from the stress he snaps back into reality. This is quite literally life or death. Focus and concentrate. 

  
Ornstein lifted a handup to one of the large doors, gently but firmly knocking twice on the golden door. It was maybe the same shade as his armour if it wasn’t darkened by the night light coming in from behind him. The moonlight danced along the curves and edges of his armour; he could see it on his gauntlets... Imagine what the rest of him must look like. Does his hair look alright? No, stop getting off track.   
The door opened and Ornstein was pulled in before he could catch a glance at the prince’s face. The shuffling of their feet mixed with the door being slammed and locked behind them was deafening. 

  
“Your highness, I’m terribly sorry to disturb thou at such late hours of the evening” Ornstein spoke, snuffing out his anxiety as quick as he could now before his prince. When he lifted himself up again he was met with the most beautiful godly eyes he could ever have the chance to glance upon. The man before him gently placed both hands on the cheeks of his helmet and lifted it off of Ornstein in a swift but careful movement.  
“You know how I feel about being so formal, Ornstein” he spoke in a smooth but unfamiliar voice. The man’s face was a blur in his memories but those eyes... He’ll force himself to remember. The helmet made a small and very quiet noise as it was carefully placed down on the prince’s desk. Ornstein could see how deeply he cared for his Knight's armour and that knight in question was flattered to say the least.

  
Ornstein was frozen, gripping his spear and looking up to the beautiful god standing over him. Oh how he adored the gaze they shared, he could drop dead right then into the arms of his beloved and the knight would have absolutely no regrets on how he went out. Slightly larger hand made their way around the strong grip on the deadly spear, barely making a effort to pull it away from the knight. Ornstein immediately let go and dropped his arms to his side, looking down and forcing himself to just keep it together. But there’s no time. He needs this. He needs... 

  
“You need to leave this place, it isn’t safe for you anymore” Ornstein spoke with a heavy voice, heavier than then weight being out on his shoulders by Lord Gwyn. Heavier than all his armour times four. Heavier than the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. He slowly began to speak  
“Lord Gwyn said he was going to erase your name tonight and tomorrow you’d be banished” it took so much to get such simple words out of his system, it took even more to meet the eyes of the man that he’s so focused on protecting. 

  
The prince looked upon his knight, eyebrows lifted in a concerned expression. After all these years of keeping their feelings for each other a secret, now being officially together and having to hide that... He’s never seen Ornstein cry. He’s seen his knight upset, angry but never watched the tears spill from his delicate eyes and mix with the stray red haired that fell onto his face from his hair being tied up for so long. His beautiful red hair spilled over his armour as the prince undid it, running a hand over the back of his head. Gentle fingers ran over the Knight’s scalp, trying to soothe him from what he knew was going to happen. He had known of this the second his father found out about what he had done.

  
“ I need you look at me, just... it may be the last time” the prince chokes out, feeling himself tremble along with the man in his arms. Ornstein moved himself close to his... Everything. Everything he’s even done was for this man. This man made him feel something for the first time since his first kill. Even then, that kill didn’t make his lose it when he was by himself. That kill didn’t make him smile wide under his mask just by looking at it. That kill didn’t keep him up at night with butterflies in his stomach. That kill didn’t make him so extremely grateful for the helmet he wore, coving the bright but lovely smile he held for the god . That kill defined him and as knight, but this man defined him as a person. He’s not just a knight, he hasn’t been for years. He is the great Dragon slayer Ornstein, faithful knight of the sun’s first born. 

  
Their eyes met and Ornstein let himself turn to rubble. He didn’t CARE. His EVERYTHING was getting torn away from him and he couldn’t do anything but watch it happen and grip to what little memory if anything that he would keep. The walls he spent years putting up to not let anything sway his judgement towards his job were shattered just by the gaze they shared. This is theirs and soon it’ll be gone from history just like the man that this knight shared it with. 

  
“You’re going to find me again, when I leave this place and go on to another you will find me. We will be free, just the two of us. I know you don’t want this and neither do I buy j swear to you I will not even forget you... I swear on my father’s honour” The prince spoke strongly, like he practiced every word that spilt from his lips over and over again to perfection. Even though that may be the case, he still hesitated. Ornstein held on tightly to the other man, closing the gap in between their bodies and forcefully yet lovingly pushing their lips together.   
Now nothing matters. Strike them by lighting and nothing matters. Kill them both in a single, brutal blow and nothing matters. They die together and both of them are perfectly okay with the light in their world closing in around them and just giving out. Their arms wrapped around one another, gripping and holding onto whatever they have left of each other. The warmth of his hands against his hair, mixing with the harsh coldness of the salty year decorating his face.

He remembers  
They didn’t have time to prepare for what had just hit them. Ornstein broke their kiss, grabbing his head and letting out a gasp for air before the intense pain settled into him. His entire body felt like it was moving although he was stationary on his feet. Ornstein's armour felt as though it had become the weight of a thousand knights piled on top of each other. This vessel, this tool, this weapon couldn’t take the sudden pressure or weight that had settled deep beneath the Knight’s skin and into his bones.   
The prince began to panic, speaking softly and lovingly to his faithful knight. This would be the finally moments of them. Ornstein couldn’t hear beyond the pain rattling his brain to shreds but the god didn’t expect him to. 

  
“G...gwy-“ was all he could get out before resorting back to his strangled noises of pain. The figure before him seemed to glow, what he knew of his face back then had already faded. His voice starting to become unfamiliar. The sun’s first born wasn’t of that any longer. 

He was the nameless king

  
Soft clouds and the sounds of wind rushing in the distance snapped Ornstein out of his thoughts of the past, grilling his spear in a similar fashion to how he did in those halls of anor londo. This is BAD. He knew exactly what that sound was. That was the sound of dragons, wyverns to be exact. Ornstein didn’t want to face one now from where he was. He didn’t have any advance and would most likely be taken down from over thinking. When the nameless king was banished to archdragon peak, ornstein became a regular knight that would protect anor londo instead of going out and slaying dragons. He was rusty and he knew this. He didn’t CARE. HE NEEDED THOSE EYES HE DESPERATELY REMEMBERS. 

  
Ornstein held his spear at the ready, beginning to run up the hill he was currently walking through. His legs screaming bloody murder at the knight forcing them to keep working despite his entire body wanting to give you and go back to anor Londo. Forget everything, move on and-  
Before he could even finish his thought, a gush of wind sweeped him off of his feet and onto the ground. He rolled backwards, clipping his helmet on one of the rocks beneath him painfully. His body absorbed the ground and what little rest he got from being on the floor. He was grateful in a weird way. No time. No time for that.

Ornstein picked himself right up off of the ground and picked up the spear, using his willpower to charge the lighting into his weapon. Dragon slayer Ornstein is not weak, he is a dragon slayer and can take down any foe that would threaten the safety of his... Beloved? That memory and phrase is new to him. It’s odd.

  
Just as Ornstein made it up the hill, he realised something. He realised the enemy he had just hyped himself up on killing... Had vanished. It was gone, the wyvern was gone. The knight knew better than to just relax and start strolling again, he held his spear up. The soft cracking of lightning on its tip stopped him from phasing out and thinking of his journey. There’s no day dreaming now, even in this beautiful area that seems just like that, a dream. With his weapon at the ready he began to continue walking up the hill, though ceasing to flood his mind to a halt. It wasn’t until he found a freshly lit bonfire that the knight realised; he was probably in danger here. Not only is the unkindled one here but this place is so dangerous by the looks of things that they had to light a bonfire to come back to.   
Directly to his left was a large structure leading into an unknown area.

It wwasbeautiful to say the least, whore stones piled on top of each other in an orderly fashion to create an archway into what looks like a concrete courtyard. If he squinted, he swore he could see some statues but of what? He’d have to take a closer look. Ornstein sat down by the bonfire and had a small rest; his journey wasn’t over but he was done suffering for now. The knight Drank some well deserved estus and picked himself right back up, holding his spear at the ready before carefully but quickly moving towards the archway in front of him.

  
It wasn’t until he made it into the archway that he started questioning the events that just played out before him. A wyvern, fully grown had just came up and knocked him off of his feet before retreating. Was it trained somehow or was it just scared because it knew what Ornstein was capable of. Either way it’s out of the ordinary even for an animal so far up in the sky. It confused him how so many animals were here while it was so far in the sky, his lungs basically ached from the thin air he was huffing and puffing on through his helmet. 

  
He passed over a small bridge made of the same white stones, looking up at the statues that surrounded him. They... Look like Lord Gwyn, that can’t be right. Is it?   
Ornstein knew exactly what he was here to find, the man jadedly in his memories, whom he apparently loved so dearly. The man that Lord Gwyn banished, the man that fought tooth and nail for what he believed in even if his faithful knight disagreed.   
The man that he was going to find even if it killed him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr & Instagram: AdemAfraid


	2. soften

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tender moment between the two, something that they should savour as it might be their last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no see unless you’re reading this in one go, nonetheless... hello to you too! I hope you enjoy this fluff filled chapter to come

The loud clunking and banging of his heavy armour hitting the floor as Ornstein sleepily took it off almost startled the exhausted man. Once his body hit the bed in his bed chambers, he could feel himself sink and his eyelids became just as heavy as the armour he threw off just now. His face buried in the sheets and bottom half hanging off the bed and onto the cold floor, it felt nice on his worked muscles. That comfort soon started to numb his skin through the layer of cloth he wore under his armour, quickly but lazily crawling up his bed and sinking his body underneath the smooth sheets. Ornstein will never not be grateful for the bed he was given in Anor londo. It was soft and unlike most of the people he’d have to talk to during each and everyday…it was forgiving.

His room consisted of his bed that was currently devouring him, a small wooden table next to the door you walk through to enter. It had a couple of scuffs and scratches, some were from carelessly dropping his spear against it and others were from less innocent mistakes that usually involved his beloved god. If he looked hard enough he may be able to see some scratch marks belonging to his gauntlets but he usually keeping books or even his helmet over those marks. There was a small balcony with a beautiful, view of the holy city he now could call home. It was weird having a home but even weirder being able to find it in a person rather than a environment. Ornstein smiled at the thought of that word home, it made him think of man he was so passionate at protecting. That passion made him insane, it gave him a fighting spirit on the battlefield. A purpose. Something to look forward to coming home to, open arms waiting to envelop him in that warmth he craved. 

Was it that warmth he craved which made his bed chambers so horrendously cold or was it the fragile snowflakes that fell just outside his balcony? Either way, he constricted himself into a tight ball and began to wrap himself in his blankets as quickly as possible. He used to be so overworked and hot to the touch that this coldness of winter in the holy city gave him reassurance yet now it was screaming at him. Ornstein hesitantly creaked his eyes open to look at the armour sprawled out over his floor and he wished that he had enough energy to care. Ornstein lifted a heavy hand up, almost not responding to what his brain was ordering it to do and undid his hair. Dark red locks spilled out from his hand and over his back, shoulders and face. Usually he’d sleep with it up tightly so he wouldn’t have to struggle with the knots in the morning but this night was different. He needs the extra protection against the cold. 

No matter what the knight did he would still suffer from the cruel winter. This would’ve caused him much more discomfort but he was too exhausted to care. His aching muscles gave their last battle cry to be embraced by gentle slumber before Ornstein finally gave it, shutting his eyes for good. 

He must’ve only been asleep for an hour before he felt a beacon of heat push it’s way into his room, door catching on one of Ornstein’s pieces of armour left on the ground. The knight usually would’ve jumped up, spear at the ready to attack the intruder but he didn’t even flinch. He felt the heat and behind his eyelids he saw the light. There was no danger. He cracked his eyes open only slightly to see something that made his heart jitter away in his chest. The prince he was so passionate about was currently cleaning up the armour that Ornstein tossed on the ground, laying it out neatly on his table. He appeared to concentrate about which pieces of armour went where on the table, making sure to put the gauntlets together as well as his boots. It appeared that the prince cared deeply about the armour.

Once he was finished laying out the armour on the table he turned to look at his knight, soft expression on his face. His eyebrows curved softly when their eyes met,  
“I’m sorry...I didn’t wake you, did I?” the God asked, voice low and soothing in the back of his throat. He carefully stepped over to Ornstein’s bed, making sure to keep quiet as to not startle his knight wide awake. 

Ornstein slithered a hand out of his layers of blankets, reaching out to the heat he so desperately desired. The other man noticed this and closed the gap between them, gently holding his hand and kneeled before him, next to his bed.  
“the floor is no place for a god, come into bed with me. Besides, you Inquire your thoughts as if they aren’t welcomed. I’m glad you woke me up” Ornstein spoke with a soft shiver to his voice, sleep making his throat fall down a few pitches. The god in question seemed to visibly melt as if he wasn’t used to his own body heat, giving the tired man a soft smile. His eyes seemed to glow just by looking at his knight, the soft golden colour seemed to become electric through their shared contact.

“allow me to warm you up?” he asked with the same smile on his face, slightly twisting to become more deviant as he rose to his feet and began to stride over to the left side of the bed. Ornstein smiled and gave a small Snickers from under the pillow resting below his head which he pulled over his face in both embarrassment and excitement.  
“Your highness, I hate to break it to you but unless you’re doing all the work than it’s not happening.” He spoke and lifted the pillow over to the other side of his bed for his beloved. His eyes still were fighting the stay open as he looked straight up at the ceiling, waiting for his partner to join him. It wasn’t until he felt the weight shift on the opposite side of the bed that he truly felt safe and comforted in his own bed chambers. 

“That can wait for a later date” the other man simply responded, enveloping his knight in the warmth of his body. Gently wrapping his arms around Ornstein and pulling him close enough to kiss his forehead. The man in the prince’s arms smiled at this and began to wrap his entire body around that body heat, their legs getting tangled and if they weren’t careful there’d be hair in the God’s mouth soon. Ornstein felt his beloved flinch at the sudden coldness that was his own skin, it surprised him too if he was being honest. This heat made him melt into a puddle in summer and gently crackle away like a fireplace in winter. It was home.

As much as Ornstein would love to give all of himself over to the heavenly man in his arms, he just couldn’t let up. Lord Gwyn had been away for quite some time now and left it to his children to take care of things while he was away. All he did was take ordered from the people taking orders but now it was different. All he got were orders without explanation but now those orders were making him go more Insane than the passion burning inside of him. Gwyn being away made their relationship so much easier to combat, with Gwyn gone there was basically nothing to be done. That meant much more free time for both Ornstein and the prince beside him yet he knew exactly why said prince was in his bed chambers. He noticed this. 

Whenever the god would come around unexpectedly is because something happened and he needed the other man’s company, he was anxious or the most common one which was very simple when thought about. He was angry, furious and needed a safe environment and a caring person to take his anger out on in a way that resulted positively. Hence the marks littering his table. Those marks would symbolise so many breathless whispers between the two men, so many times Ornstein’s head hit the wall behind that table from arching his back and giving his all to the towering force above him. He loved those moments they shared, they’re good things to space out to when in a boring ceremony or presentation. He was thankful for his helmet, this was the first day that thought ran through his head. 

He knew how important it was but when he thought about it, heat crawling through his veins... He understood. Ornstein doesn’t want to imagine what his face would look like thinking back on their shared moment of both pure love for one another and pure hatred for everything else. 

He was snapped out of his imagination by a smooth voice talking to him,  
“Something on your mind?” The prince asked as he began to softly take his hands through the red hair of his lover.  
“Sen... table, that’s all I need to speak of” Ornstein spoke sleepily, looking up at the god with a sly smile. The god in question bit his lip and laughed at both the response and nickname given from the knight. Gwynsen was the name given by his father, Lord Gwyn. Ornstein was a sucker for nicknames but definitely didn’t want to call his partner the name of his father. That would creepy just about anyone out, especially if their father was Gwyn himself. Sen was good enough for him. 

Gwynsen didn’t say another word, just giving out the small burst of laughter and resuming to playing with Ornstein’s hair. The eyelids that belonged to the faithful knight began to falter, shutting and not dating to open again. Subconsciously he pushed all his weight onto the other man, completely falling into him. Not like the god cared anyway, the weight was comforting. Sort of like a weighted blanket except of a person you love. 

His shivers soon stopped and he didn’t need his blankets anymore, only needing to be in contact with his prince. It was a nice feeling, finally being able to relax after such a long day of constantly being alert. A full day of carefully watching over the god while trying not to freak out over Gwyndolin’s lower half. He’d probably never get used to how freaky it was, it was a surprise just how comfortable Gwynsen was with it. He assumed it was because they were related but it was still bizarre to him. It didn’t take long for Ornstein to slip back into a deep slumber, in the arms of his beloved prince. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The knight subconsciously felt the heat beside him fade and move. This caused him to wake up, pulling the sheets up to his nose to avoid contact with the cool air. Where had he headed off to? Ornstein carefully sat up, keeping a grip on his barrier of body heat, looking around the room with tired eyes. It wasn’t until he saw blurred light of an oil lamp beside him and the illumination his balcony that he understood. 

He let his eyes adjust to the sudden change of lighting. Last time he was awake the sun had just started to set over anor londo, now it was a soft shade of dark blue in the sky. Night never say right with him, it was border lining the abyss and if he didn’t keep an eye on it soon that blue would turn to black. This was a tender moment between the two, he shouldn’t let his fears ruin it. Ornstein carefully stepped out of bed and left his sheets behind, feeling the harsh coldness of the floor once he did so. 

Gwynsen was leant over the railing of Ornstein’s balcony, looking down over anor londo and appeared to be deep in thought. He had taken off a majority of his usual clothing, leaving on just his pants and shirt. Considering his hair wasn’t being held up by his crown it actually appeared longer than what was to be assumed. It flowed down to his mid back and gently swayed with the breeze that continued to toss snowflakes across the sky. Ornstein then looking over to see the God’s things places neatly underneath the table where the Knight’s armour rested. 

Ornstein closed the space between both of them, wrapping his arms around Gwynsen's mid-section. He gave the other man a gentle squeeze, nuzzling his face into his upper back. That warmth came back to him and made him just about collapse behind him. His god smiled at the gesture and turned around to return the embrace he was receiving. 

“I’m sorry to leave you waiting, just needed to clear my head” Gwynsen explained, sleep hanging over his voice like a veil. Ornstein tilted his head up to look at him, giving him a soft expression of worry.  
“I thought you had something on your mind, we can talk about it if you’d like?” The knight knew he wouldn’t be much help because of how exhausted he was but that wouldn’t stop him. Now that he thinks of it he could probably come up with why the prince would want to stay the night with him. 

One would be this issue he’s thinking about that he’s yet to uncover and two is much more pure and romantic. He was probably in his own bed chambers when he noticed the snow storm pick up speed. He knew how could Ornstein’s bed chambers usually got even when winter wasn’t around so he would’ve feared for his Knight’s comfort. Usually he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because of Gwyn but...now he’s nowhere to be found, there was no real danger. There were his siblings to worry about, well for Ornstein to worry about. The prince constantly reassured his knight that there was nothing to fear and that according to him they wouldn’t even consider it an issue. 

That doesn’t sit right with him. That doesn’t matter now anyway, there was something on his God's mind and he was determined to make him feel better.  
“I won’t force you, beloved” Ornstein spoke, moving to stand next to him instead so he could have some space. The second he put one of his hands on the railing it came off as quick as it was placed. Gwynsen moved to Ornstein’s side rather quickly, taking his knight into a tight embrace. It surprised Ornstein at first but he wrapped his arms around his God, feeling his heat bleed into him. 

“be careful, you don’t want to get a cold” the prince spoke with a hushed and worrisome tone of voice, making sure his partner was held close. For this exact reason the knight fell more and more in love with him each day. For this exact reason it got harder and harder to keep their relationship a secret. For this exact reason he wanted to just run away far from anor londo with his beloved prince and start over. This was not a possibility, there were too many negatives to that option. They would find a way to one day be together without fear of banishment or worse.

Ornstein tilted his head up at Gwynsen, leaning up ever do slightly to gently place a kiss on his cheek. It was a small gesture that he knew would make the other man melt into his arms. The prince sighed and smiled as a reaction to this affection,  
“Is it alright if we talk about it later?” he asked, gently pushing some stray strands of hair out of Ornstein's face. The knight hesitantly gave a half smile, this made him uneasy. He glanced over the railing, away from Gwynsen. This wasn’t normal, this must be something really bad for him to not want to talk about it. 

Usually how it went was, Gwynsen comes into Ornstein’s room and they talk about whatever was plaguing him until he felt better. Worst case scenario Ornstein wasn’t available, attending to the other three trusted knights of Gwyn. In this case, Gwynsen would usually just...wait for him to get back. He could always just pull his knight aside and talk to him, leaving the others to wait during his absence but be was selfless. He couldn’t do that, that would make them assume things and put weight on their relationship that was definitely not needed. 

Suddenly Ornstein was looking back up at his prince, a gently hand caressing the left side of his face. The gaze they shared made him want to melt into a puddle and forget about all of this. If it’s truly as bad as his anxiety is making him believe it is, then they’ll discuss it later. It’s okay. He’s okay. Ornstein continued to reassure himself, locking their eyes together. Hazel meeting gold. 

“I know what that look means, and I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me” the god spoke softly, putting deep thought into every single word that spilt from his lips. Anything that the other man wanted to say so he could disagree with him was thrown out the window, he hated that charm about him. The 'everything is going to be okay even though it’s not' charm that everyone in anor londo craved to get a taste of. So, they wouldn’t hollow. 

“I’m your knight, I’m meant to worry about you” Ornstein replied quietly, apologizing without even opening his mouth. he wasn’t going to fight it but he couldn’t help being concerned for the other man.  
“But if you don’t want to discuss, I’ll drop it” he said simply, continuing their gaze, stretching it out for as long as he could. 

Gwynsen gently pulled the other man into an embrace, the warmth of his own body making Ornstein become hot to the touch. The knight wrapped his arms around his prince, returning the embrace. There was something about this contact that made him suddenly so emotional, it was so foreign. They were physically affectionate all the time when they were alone, they had to savour each inch of each other’s skin, more for Gwynsen’s sake rather than Ornstein’s. The knight could want his god for hours, and he did. This was his job. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Present day

As Ornstein looked up at the large statue in front of him, he thought about the current events, the wyvern, these new memories. He thought he was going to be sick any second now if he didn’t find a place to rest for a while, he didn’t need long. A couple hours at most would be enough before night rolled in. The exhausted knight found his arms wrapped tightly around himself, mirroring the memories that had just played through his head like a theatre production. He couldn’t help it, this man...

This man he knew nothing about until a couple weeks ago just might as well be the most important person in the entire world. He knows nothing about him and will continue to not know anything about him until more memories roll in. Either way, this man... He needs to find him. He needs... him. 

Ornstein unravelled himself from his own arms, picking up his spear off the ground which had fallen out of his grip. These flashbacks, they became easier to understand as they started to play out in his head. They were less intense and more just like memories rather than fully taking him back. He can walk with these, that’s good. He figured it was probably the fatigue starting to eat away at him but he can’t know for sure until he finds a place to rest. 

The knight took a tight grip on his spear and began to push himself. Push himself harder than any time he’s ever had to push himself. Slaying dragons was easier than this, he was slaying dragons to see this... Man again but now he was pushing through the screaming of his legs. Pushing through this unbearable pain to see a man who he doesn’t even know is still alive. Is he alive? Is he hollow? Does he remember him? Did he move on? Does he even want to see him?

As Ornstein began to overthink his pain and fear, he could spot a tall white building, made of the same stunning stones the ground below him was made out of. Safety. It’s going to be okay.  
The second that reassurance left his mind it was through back at him, screamed back at him. Almost knocked him off of his feet.  
Ornstein could barely even see in from of him but he could make out the shape and faintly hear the sounds of a beast. A beast that would ruin him AGAIN. He can’t take another hit at body his pride and his body. One time was enough. Let him rest. Let him find his world. Let him find his sun. Leave him.


	3. Fall from grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of smut at the end of this chapter as a tease 👀 next chapter will be full on. Sorry for the delay on this one! :(

Any thoughts that ran through the mind of the dragon slayer were scrambled, desperate even. Ever since he had grasped the pin prick of a memory, his thinking became sporadic and uneven. Ornstein looked through his helm, feeling the wind whip his hair against the back of his armour. He began to stumble across the pavement, spear held tightly in his hand as to not let go of his defence. As he slowly moved forward, feet screaming at him to just collapse he realises just how little he was risking now. 

All of his friends were gone, his duties were reduced to that of a petty body guard and he hadn’t seen a dragon since the man from his memories was around. If he failed his mission he’d die, or just never find his Beloved. If this were the case then he’d just hollow out at that point but he hopes to the gods that it wouldn’t happen to him. Ornstein needed this, he needed to find the blurry faced man he keeps thinking about. The knight felt one of his knees give out, launching him towards the ground. He had time to react but his body wouldn’t corporate with him. 

Ornstein plummeted to the ground with a loud bang of his armour and a softer clinking of his spear hitting the pavement beside him. The knight lifted his hand ever do slightly, battling with the incoming darkness which fogged his vision. He was going to pass out. Panic started to rise within him as his hearing began to settle in, before his stumbling started he couldn’t hear as well as before but now that he could. He’d rather be deaf. 

The loud whipping of the air in front of him made his stomach turn inside out. The force of the wind being pushing towards him made the Knight’s own spear begin to roll away from him. He could just give up now, there’s no shame in it. He tried, he tried very hard. He’s been out fending for himself for... He can’t remember how long. It must’ve been at least two months since Ornstein left Anor Londo and now, it may be for nothing. 

The wind being whipped and controlled in front of him was the work of the exact wyvern which had shown up just before. Ornstein forced his head up, looking straight at the beast. He focused on it, using the last of his energy to stare it down. 

The wvyern looked aged yet beautifully taken care of. It was unnatural how it looked, as if any battles it had taken part of were calculated as that of a human. Doing a once over the wyvern's body he concluded that there were some soft scars but nothing too serious. It looked cared for, maybe it was a part of a group? That’s the over explanation Ornstein could come up with for its appearance. The beast was coloured white, soft yet defined scales littered the entirety of its body yet somehow were hidden. The head of the creature reminded him of his dear friend and comrade Gough in a way. Something about the positioning of its scales and curves reminded him of his comrade's armour plates. 

This was it. Everything he worked for... No. It was okay. He tried his best, even more than his best. It was his time for eternal rest. 

Ornstein closed his eyes, his body shaking and mind beginning to race. He was about to have a panic attack if this didn’t get over and done with sooner. He waited for the impact of death, for the wyvern to finally swoop in for the final blow. Yet, what happened next made Ornstein tense. The wyvern seemed to just scan Ornstein and leave, not hurting him physically at all. The knight cracked his eyes open when he heard the sound of the beast flying away from him. It doesn’t make sense at all. The knight lifted his hand, fighting himself. This wasn’t a coincidence; the wyvern didn’t get bored. Someone or something was controlling it for it to not tear his to shreds. Who is it, what is it? 

Was it just thinking by itself? Ornstein began to crawl, DESPERATELY. He needed safety and he needed rest. He was so lucky to not be murder then and there by the beast but it doesn’t even matter, he needs to find him. His beloved, this man. He will find him even if he ends up being killed by that wyvern. He promised on Lord Gwyn’s honour. Ornstein begged his body to continue no matter how much it felt as though he was being torn to shreds. No matter how much it felt like his armour was suffocating him. No matter how much he wants to take the easy way out with his spear. No matter what. He begged his body to continue on. 

This weapon of a body needed time to repair itself, this body of his hadn’t been worked this hard for years and years. Ever since Gwyn died, he has been nothing. This is it, a chance to prove himself. He’s more than just a petty knight, sure he still served Gwyndolin by he was a much better ruler than Gwyn ever was. Meaning that Ornstein never went of dangerous missions, what he was born to do because there was no need. There was no fear in the city of irythll. It made him so unbelievably bored, knowing that he can never truly prove himself. 

Ornstein finally made his way into the building he saw out of his fogged vision. Dirt and cobwebs littered the inside of the somewhat ancient building, it reminded him of some of the buildings back in Anor Londo. He didn’t have enough time to analyse the area before fully collapsing on the ground in a heap. This was okay, he was safer now. Ornstein felt himself finally give into unconscious, knowing he’d heal from that. He could keep his guard down now, he’d be safe in his own head.

Every time they let their guard down around one another Ornstein was reminded of how captivating his Lord was. It was one of the coldest nights in Anor Londo, so cold that the running water in the castle had completely frozen over. They’d likely have to put some ice in a pot if they wanted drinking water for the next couple of days. Although this was the case, his prince never failed to make Ornstein feel like the luckiest man in the world. He knew this of course, but Gwynsen confirmed this for the knight. 

The gently grasp of the Knight’s hair was the only thing keeping him from completely spacing out while staring at his partner. His Lord was leant back against the wall of Ornstein’s room, fist full of the dragon slayer's deep red hair. His muscles gently moved and constricted at each one of the other man’s movements below him. They could never be as loud as they truly wanted but Gwynsen continued to make an effort to show his appreciation toward Ornstein’s movements. The God let out short breathy whispers of praise for his faithful and beautiful knight, he couldn’t help it. 

Ornstein was knelt in between the legs of a god, bobbing his head at an even pace around the Lord’s cock all the while looking up to appreciate his work. The Knight’s determined hazel eyes burned a hole into Gwynsen’s features, looking his expression up and down to see what his partner enjoyed. 

“by the gods, Ornstein...” Gwynsen’s breath hung low in his throat, eyebrows curled upwards in a blissful expression. He couldn’t help but gently roll his hips into the other man’s mouth. The Lord watched his faithful knight work up and down his shaft with such determination he only ever sees on the battlefield as well as in each other’s bed chambers. 

Ornstein reached a hand up to wrap around the base of Gwynsen’s cock. With his fingers wrapped gently yet firmly around the length of his partners cock, he began to stroke the beginning couple of inches. With doing this he was able to back off and pay more attention to the sensitivity of his Lord’s tip. 

With his soft lips and gently tongue working around his cock, Gwynsen could just about pass away. It felt...so good. He never really have Ornstein a chance to take more control within their sex life, not that he complained anyway. He was so good at taking orders in his day to day so it makes sense he’d be good at doing so in his bed chambers. Usually when the two of them had sex it was without warning. Whenever Gwynsen became angry without Ornstein around to comfort him, he would bottle it up. That was until he felt like he’d explode as if he had casted emit force. 

it would usually take place as everyone went to bed, usually leaving Gwynsen and his father to have a conversation. This always ended in rage and rebellion with his first born which needed to be cursed. It didn’t take much for Ornstein to understand what was going on before welcoming his Lord with open arms. The god couldn’t help his roughness when blowing off steam with his knight, causing many lousy explanations for his limp the next day. There were a lot of love bites and choking involved for the receiving end of Ornstein, putting him in his informal place. Although he was his own person, being very free with Gwynsen ordering him, he was still his Lord’s faithful knight. His faithful knight that would drop anything in a heartbeat to attend to his Lord. He was proving his loyalty to the god in a way.

Gwynsen let out a breathless moan, gripping Ornstein’s hair tighter with a couple of rough pulls.   
“beloved, I’m almost...there” he hesitated on his last word, catching a moan in his throat. The second his knight heard these words it was time for his performance to be thrown into overdrive. He released his hand from the Lord’s cock and opened his mouth slightly wider, sticking his tongue out again the bottom of his shaft. Ornstein hollowed his cheeks out as he quickly bobbed his mouth over the length, determined to get his partner to his climax. The knight locked their vision together, watching his Lord unravel before his eyes. 

Gwynsen arches his back slightly, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. His grasp on Ornstein’s hair tightened and constricted his movements, leaving his mouth vulnerable to his Lord’s attack. The knight knew what was coming and if his mouth wasn’t filled to the brim he would’ve smiled in excitement. Ornstein kept his hands away from the other man so he could have full control over him, instead beginning to undo his own pants. The Dragonslayer needed to free his own erection before it became unbearable. 

The god above him looked back down at his faithful knight, watching the tears build up in his eyes from having worked his throat for his Lord. Gwynsen gently pulled himself out of the other man’s mouth, giving him time to recollect himself. When he did this, Ornstein coughed a little and wiped his mouth before looking back up at him. He gave the man above him a cocky grin before opening his mouth obediently, sticking his tongue as he did so. 

Gwynsen tilted Ornstein’s head up to meet his cock as he slid it back into the warmth of his mouth. The knight below him kept his mouth open as the space in his throat was taken up. He didn’t have enough time to prepare before he began to get face fucked by the god. Soft gaging noises came from his mouth, eyes rolling up to look at his partner in his lust fuelled state.   
“Im going to release inside of that beautiful throat of yours, Ornstein” the God above him growled out aggressively as he thrusting into Ornstein’s mouth. The knight couldn’t help how his own cock twitched in his pants while his mouth got abused by the God. 

The way Gwynsen tasted in his mouth was like nothing he’s ever experienced before. It was...good. Which was definitely surprising for him when they first had sex together. Ornstein had only really done this sort of thing with other knights and they never tasted as good as his partner did. They were usually one night stands out in battle as well. Usually after being out in a constant battle he’d need a release to clear his head so he wouldn’t overthink his actions and mess up. So whichever lucky knight he chose would usually give him that sweet bliss of release. None of them tasted good and he would often do anything give the other knight a blowjob, he absolutely hated it. 

It wasn’t until he let his guard down around the god that he grew to adore the taste of him. Was it because Ornstein loved the man or was it the fact, he’s a god that made his cock taste unbelievable? The knight didn’t care, he just savoured every last drop he could get off the prince.


	4. A close encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get it on (◠‿◕)

Ornstein rested his hands on his Lord’s upper thighs, letting him have full control. The knight squeezed his eyes shut and listened to the heavy breathing of the man above him. The fact that someone as powerful as the sun’s first born was this vulnerable let alone in this state with Ornstein was a blessing. He would never take this for granted. Gwynsen’s movements became erratic and without rhythm as he fucked Ornstein’s throat, spilling over the edge and into his lover’s mouth. This was what the faithful knight was waiting for, this very moment. 

Ornstein’s closed his mouth around the god’s cock, sucking relentlessly, savouring every single bit of his cum. He swallowed without a second thought, a shiver running down his spine from the delicious heat that settled down his throat. As Gwynsen came down off his high, Ornstein began to soften his sucking as to not over stimulate his sensitive length. 

The god’s breathe started to settle after a small while, a soft and quiet laugh coming from him. Ornstein pulled himself off of the other man, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. With a smile he looked up at him,  
“What’s so funny?” he rose to his feet, knees a little wobbly from being on the ground for so long. 

Gwynsen smiled and pulled his knight close, closing the gap in between their bodies. They linked together perfectly almost as if they were meant to be. Surely that wasn’t the case, or at least that’s what Lord Gwyn would believe to be the truth. It didn’t matter what he thought really, it was purely up to them.

“Nothing, you’re just gorgeous” The god said, voice clouded with exhaustion from his orgasm. He’d be ready again soon but for the moment Ornstein could savour the state he was in. The knight gently kissed his cheek before moving over to his bed, sitting on the edge of it.   
“After all we’ve been through I’d like to hope so” Ornstein joked, laying back and tugging off his own pants. The second his skin got exposed to the air he regretted it, needing Gwynsen by his side again he groaned and reached out to him. 

The Lord chuckled at that and walked over to his lover, moving in between his legs and pushing them both fully onto the bed. Gwynsen moved his hands up Ornstein’s shirt, gently feeling the skin of his chest. The knight hummed quietly at this, closing his eyes and taking in the warmth he felt. He breathed in and arched his back up to meet the contact he was receiving. Ornstein shifted himself until he was seated in the other man’s lap, legs lazily wrapped behind Gwynsen. The Lord smirked, gripping at his skin playfully between his fingers. The knight below him looked up at his partner, humming quietly at his movements. 

The hands on his body began to focus on either side of his chest, directly over his nipples. Two fingers moved along either side of both the Knight’s nipples, making the riding and falling of his chest more uneven. Ornstein's clouded eyes looked up at Gwynsen, moving an arm to rest underneath his head while the over moved up. The god felt the familiar touch of the dragon slayer against his cheek, it was a gentle and loving touch. 

A sudden groan left Ornstein’s throat as the fingers around his nipples constricted, tightly tugging on both of them. His chest raised and fell against the god’s hands, shuddering at his movements. Gwynsen removed his hands from the Knight’s chest, unbuttoning Ornstein's shirt. He leaned down and began to bite at his partner's skin, trying to keep himself from leaving marks. 

“I really need you, my Lord. I need you inside of me” Ornstein said just above a whisper into the other man’s ear. The knight moved his ass just over Gwynsen’s tired cock, rolling his hips. Their skin connected and the god above him shuddered. No matter how many times they had done this before... This time felt different. It felt much more personal. This time there was so anger fuelling their sex, it was just love and comfort. It made Ornstein want to just melt completely into his lover. 

Gwynsen grabbed hold of Ornstein’s hips, gently grinding back into his movements.   
“I love you... So much” He spoke into the Knight’s ear in return, gently billing at his skin just below said ear. Ornstein leaned his head to the side, almost begging him to continue you contact.   
“beloved, I’m yours. I love you” Ornstein gasped the last part, feeling a gentle yet firm prodding begin at his entrance. The god’s gentle fingers danced over his entrance, teasing the soft muscle. Carefully Gwynsen began to slowly work him open with his fingers, inching more and more until he could fit one inside of his lover.

Ornstein bit his lip, keeping himself quiet as he was ravaged by the god towering over him. The Lord began to gently finger him, working him open at a steady pace. The Knight’s cock twitched in arousal, begging to be touched whether it was from its owner or by his lover. Gwynsen worked the other man open, reducing him into a mumbling mess. 

As Ornstein was spread open by the Lord, he felt as though he was going to melt from the inside out. He almost felt too hot as a contrast to the freezing from Anor Londo outside his balcony. The knight gripped the sheets beneath him and shifted his legs around his lover.

“Am I being gentle enough?” Gwynsen inquired with a hint of concern in his voice. This was unusual for him; they were both usually so rough and in sync with each other. So much so that the god just knew when his knight needed a break. So when Ornstein got asked this question he couldn’t help but smile up at him.   
“It feels great, beloved” he reassured him, gently caressing the arm in between his legs. The god began to add more force with his movements, loosening him up to add more fingers into his partner. 

The first couple of times where Ornstein bottomed it was really difficult for them to keep up the mood. He was always too tight and it was always an uncomfortable experience for him to be loosened up. It didn’t help that his partner was so concerned with his comfort and the second something went wrong he would get upset. However, after Gwynsen had the idea to steal some medical books from the cleric nurses and learn for himself it became much easier. 

Ornstein arched his back up and began to fuck himself on the god’s fingers, hair falling over his face. His face softened as he rolled his hips, looking up at Gwynsen with a strong desire he hadn’t seen in a while. It had been a while hadn’t it? They hadn’t had proper time alone in ages. The last time they were able to be this vulnerable together was in the back room of one of Lord Gwyn’s parties. They scurried off into the back room while Gwyn addressed the guests. It was crude and unprofessional in a way. 

Imagine having Lord Gwyn's echoed voice in your ears while just below you, in between your legs was his first-born son. Ornstein was never one for having sex in public, especially considering the relationship he shares with the man he serves under. The sun’s first-born felt the opposite however, taking whatever opportunity he could to embarrass the knight in a way that wasn’t suspicious. 

Thinking of all of this made the Knight’s cock ache with excitement. To think that his life was so unbelievably boring until he came to Anor Londo, he almost didn’t believe it. How quickly he fell for the prince was insane, it only took a couple of meetings with him for the knight to lose his composure and fall in love. 

“Get inside me, I won’t last long like this” he spoke in a quick and hushed tone, grasping his cock in his hand. The knight laid back and spread his legs for his god, wanting to give every part of his body over to the man. Gwynsen didn’t hesitate, taking hold on his Knight’s legs and pushing himself inside. This made Ornstein let out a strangled moan, trying to keep himself quiet. The girth of the god’s length spread him open even more than he already was, pushing him to his limit. 

Gwynsen’s loyal knight slammed his jaw shut, struggling to keep his noises to himself as the god began to thrust into him. Gwynsen tightly put a hand over Ornstein’s mouth to relieve him of that responsibility.  
“Let it out baby” the god ordered him, pushing himself inside of his partner with a steady rhythm. Ornstein fell apart, basically yelling into the other man’s hand but it came out as mumbles from the muffling. He began to roughly tug at his own cock, slamming himself back against his God’s thrusts.

Ornstein’s hair splayed out behind him and over the pale bedsheets appearing similar to the sunlight warriors who worshipped Gwynsen. If only they could see their god like this.

Gwynsen watched Ornstein the entire time he fucked him, locking their gaze together. He didn’t want to miss a second of his lover falling completely into lust and drowning in it. This was one of the few times he enjoyed the power he possessed. A power that could grant him any single woman in Anor Londo that he wanted yet... He chose Ornstein. He was a talented dragon slayer and one of the four Knights of gwyn but without that he was nothing. 

That’s not what the Lord was attracted to though, he was attracted to the man himself. Not his badges. Not his armour but the man that wore all of it. The man that refused to back down from a fight.

Ornstein quickly jerked himself off, starring up at the god with lidded eyes. He couldn’t stop the noises exiting his mouth and reverberating against the god’s hand. 

Gwynsen snapped out of his pleasurable haze when he felt Ornstein suddenly contract around his cock, his moans coming to a halt. His continuous gasped got erased and all was left was what theoft smacking of their skin connecting with one another. The knight eyes dulled and his eyebrows furrowed, grasping Gwynsen’s hand with his free one. 

Ornstein released himself over Gwynsen and himself, eyes rolling back a bit in his head. His chest raised and fell quickly, his load shooting out of his cock steadily. The god watched his knight unravel in front of him as he kept up his pace. The Dragonslayer breathed heavily and let go of his length, absolutely exhausted from his orgasm.

The god couldn’t hold back anymore, removing his hand from Ornstein’s mouth. He buried his head in the Knight’s neck, holding his legs back with both of his hands. With nothing muting the dragon slayer, he breathed heavily as he waited for Gwynsen to continue. 

With a hushed voice, strained from being so vocal Ornstein spoke.   
“my love, please release inside of me... Please” the Knight ran his hands through the thick silver hair of his partner. It gently floated behind him and in the lighting... Looked gorgeous. 

The Dragon slayer wrapped his legs around Gwynsen before he picked up the pace again, the heat inside of him igniting in a way he hadn’t felt for ages. He didn’t have much time to prepare before he started getting turned inside out, warmth rippling through his body. 

The prince began to thrust into his knight with an amount of force only a god could possess. He was always so protective of his first knight, even before they got close. This aspect of the god shined through just as bright as him whenever they got this intimate. Gwynsen’s grip on Ornstein tightened, his fingers digging into the muscular skin of his hips.

Without warning, the prince pushed deep inside the dragon slayer, releasing his load inside of him. Ornstein gasped, a deep moan following soon after.  
“that’s my boy” Gwynsen growled against Ornstein’s flesh. The knight shuddered at his words, coming down off of his high of the god’s orgasm. 

Believe it or not, Ornstein was sweating. Isn’t that ironic?


	5. Too close for comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beast threatens the safety of the holy city, Ornstein reflects on himself. Aka the plot actually starts now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear back from you all for what you think so far, what you'd like to see more of ect 
> 
> I have a clear plan for how this story unfolds but I would love to add in some more stuff that you guys like ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

When Ornstein woke up that morning, he expected to be alone in his bed as per usual. Gwynsen would usually cuddle with him until the knight fell asleep, then would make a dash for his bed chambers. They couldn’t risk someone coming in unexpectedly and seeing the two together like they were. So when he felt a comforting pair of hands playing with his hair, it was safe to say he was surprised. 

Soft pale rays of sunlight entered his room through his balcony, being a dim shade of blue from the snow. It was comforting, almost as comforting as the affection he was getting at this moment. Ornstein didn’t want to move an inch away from the bundle of love in his bed yet he did, shifting his head up to look at Gwynsen. With tired eyes he looked up at this similarly tired looking god. 

His Lord appeared to have not slept at all that night, his usually bright and cheerful eyes were dulled. Something was wrong. Some of his long silver locks covered his face which didn’t seem to bother him, having been too concentrated in his own thoughts. They usually floated behind him with such grace yet this time they were flat. Ornstein ran a hand up from Gwynsen’s side gently, up to his face. He gently caressed his cheek from under the Lord’s hair, pushing it away in the process. 

“Good morning, your highness” The knight greeted his lover, sleep and exhaustion hanging through his voice as he spoke. He desperately wanted to question him about why he was here yet he didn’t want Gwynsen to pick up his things and leave. 

Ornstein didn’t have the chance to say anything else before getting pulled into a tight embrace, sealed with a long kiss from the god. There was something wrong. Their kiss felt softer and fainter than usual, it was slow and drawn out. Almost as though Gwynsen was savouring Ornstein’s lips. His Lord made an effort to gently pull away at times, grazing their lips against each other before diving back in for another taste. The knight rubbed his thumb against the side of Gwynsen’s soft face, feeling his bone structure under his skin. He felt the God’s defined features and just the feeling of it made him swoon over the other man. 

Gwynsen finally separated the two, looking between Ornstein’s eyes and his lips. There was something wrong. He opened his mouth to say something yet nothing came out, this made Ornstein uneasy. The prince was usually so calculated and would never hesitate, yet this. This was bad enough that he stuttered and became anxious over it.

“I hope my father never returns” his hushed voice was hard to make out, almost mumbling his words to the knight. Almost like he was whispering, not wanting needy ears to hear him. When Ornstein looked at Gwynsen, all he could do was frown and gently give him another kiss to try and calm him. The kiss was short and sweet but it seemed to calm the prince a little, that was all that mattered. 

“Beloved, why do you feel this way?” Ornstein asked his prince, beginning to sit up in his bed. He needed to start the day but comforting his partner and Lord was much more important to him. The other knights could wait, his Lord however was his top priority. 

Gwynsen moved to gently hug at Ornstein’s waist, nuzzling his head into the Knight’s hip. Ornstein gently raked his fingers through the soft, silver locks of his partner. The prince took in a couple of shaky breaths to try and calm himself down, Ornstein gave him the time to do so. 

Gwynsen wriggled his way out of Ornstein’s arms to sit up properly, putting his head in his hands. His shoulders shook and his hands trembled. The knight expected that his partner would just vanish from his bed chambers and he’d have to pick this situation up later. What the dragon slayer was not expecting was to meet his lover’s weeping eyes, becoming speechless at the sudden river streaming from the god’s eyes. 

“Oh beloved... What-“  
“My father wants me to get married to a princess from another kingdom” Gwynsen blurted out quickly, the tears in his eyes overspilling down his cheeks. Ornstein’s expression dropped, eyebrows raising in shock. 

“I’ll probably never see you again if that’s the case. We’ll have to rule over a new kingdom or... Or at least get a new set of knights. You won’t be my first knight anymore; you’ll be my father’s. I don’t want to marry her and i don’t want to leave you. Ornstein, my love I wanted to tell you sooner but I had no chance. We were both so busy and now it’s too late” Gwynsen sobbed out. He put his head in his hands again, beginning to cry loudly. The god cried so loud that the entire palace should’ve been able to hear it. 

Ornstein felt like he was getting ripped apart from the inside out, yet he would never show it. His eyes dulled, looking at his one and only fall apart in front of him. 

“He left to discuss this with her family didn’t-“ was all Ornstein could say before two solid knocks at his door made them both freeze. In sync they both rose to their feet, beginning to pick up their clothes off the ground. Ornstein cringed and winced with his feet hit the floor, a burning sensation running through his bare skin. The snow storm from last night must’ve picked up while he was asleep. 

“Sir Ornstein, art thou awake?” came a soft and feminine voice from beyond the wooden door of Ornstein’s bed chambers. The voice which belonged to Gwyndolin shook ever so slightly from what could be assumed as fear. Both Ornstein and Gwynsen shot each other a look, simultaneously yanking on their clothes. He had to answer the little lord to avoid suspicion. But how? How is he going to explain to Gwyndolin that their brother, his master and secretively his partner was in his bed chambers at such early hours of the morning. 

This responsibility was taken away from the dragon slayer as his Lord replied to the voice at the door.  
“Dear brother, would thou be so kind as to giveth us a moment?” The prince asked kindly to his younger sibling. When Gwynsen called Gwyndolin his brother it took Ornstein back for a moment. That was until he remembered the conversation he had with him about his brother’s gender. It saddened the knight that his partner’s brother couldn’t be himself because of his father. 

“please beest quick, this... this is incredibly urgent” Gwyndolin stumbled over his words, stuttering halfway through his speech. A pang of hurt ran through the both of them, making them quicken their pace in making themselves look presentable. If it was anyone besides Gwyndolin or Gwynevere then they would be able to get away with not answering the door. However, that was not the case at this very moment. 

Ornstein grabbed a hair tie and quickly tied up his hair, looking over to see that Gwynsen was finished getting ready and instead moved to make his Knight’s bed. The knight who owned said bed looked over at his Lord doing so, waiting for him to be finished as he fixed up his hair. Although Ornstein didn’t have his armour on, he looked presentable for Gwyndolin to see. That was enough. After a nod of agreement from Gwynsen, Ornstein moved over to the door.

The strong wooden door creaked open, its hinges letting out a soft scream in protest as it was opened by the knight. When the door was opened, all that remained in space of the wood was the Dark Sun Gwyndolin. The Lord was dressed in long, flowy gown that reached the floor, a glittering gold trim hung on the hem of his gown. The gown had long kimono style sleeves made out of sheer white fabric, small gold sequins littering the ends of both sleeves. These features of his attire matched perfectly with the crown that sat neatly on his head. Although Gwyndolin was dress beautifully, it couldn’t help distract that knight from how frightened he appeared. 

Ornstein stepped aside to let Gwyndolin in, who rushed to his brother’s side in a panicked fuelled speed. He didn’t even have time to greet the little lord before he started informing Gwynsen about what was going on.  
“There's a wyvern on the outskirts of Anor Londo. Gwynevere and I saw the beast from her balcony this morning. Twas just... Flying around. The meaning escapes me wherefore it appeared but I fear it hath malicious intent” Gwyndolin exclaimed, shaking out of pure dread and anxiety. 

How could there be a wyvern here? Ornstein stood near his door deep in thought as Gwyndolin continued to ramble. There hasn’t been any dragon sighting near civilization for...years. Especially near the holy city of Anor Londo, home of the gods. Excitement struck Ornstein like a bolt of Gwyn’s lighting, spreading through his body in the form of adrenalin. It’s been quite a while since he’s fought a wyvern and now more than ever, he needs to clear his mind and vent his feelings through the throws of combat. Hopefully he can get there in time before the wretched thing destroys any of the holy city. It would be a difficult fight however considering the terrain, it’s been snowing and at this very moment... Still is. That could make the grip on his boots basically useless yet-

“Sir Ornstein, I trust thee wilt beest able to slay the wyvern in company with thy fellow Black Knights and mine own company” it sounded more like a question than a statement coming from the prince’s mouth. When Gwynsen asked this of the dragon slayer he scoffed and turned on his heels to face the Lord. While Ornstein was deep in thought about the wyvern, he managed to dress himself in a full suit of armour apart from his helmet. 

“I appreciate thy concern your highness but I believeth I am better hath left alone on this battle” was all the knight said before he got a strong glare off of his master.  
“Sir Ornstein, thou wilt needeth the backup” Gwynsen spoke firmly to his knight, drilling the point deep into Ornstein’s skull. It didn’t work but it was a worth a try. The Lord would have to try harder than that to make him obey but considering the situation Ornstein would have to just nod and accept his words. 

Ornstein nodded and put on his helmet before taking his spear in his hands.  
“I apologize, I wilt gather the Knights straight hence.” He spoke with purpose, bottling up his excitement for the battlefield. When Ornstein looked back at his Lord he saw something that almost made his heart break right then and there. 

Gwynsen had taken Gwyndolin into an embrace, letting the smaller lord let out his fear for the beast in the form of soft weeps. It made Ornstein remember just how important he really is. He’s not just some knight sent to patrol Anor Londo when he had nothing better to do. He was the great Dragon slayer Ornstein, first knight of the sun’s first born. 

Ornstein carefully walked over to the two of them, his heart sinking with ever weighted step he took. He stood some distance away from them however, as to not ruin their moment or overwhelm the already panicked younger lord. The knight took a knee, kneeling down to the floor before the two gods. 

“Lord Gwyndolin” he spoke with a soft and gentle tone, one that look Gwynsen back as he’s been the only one to hear such a voice from him. Gwyndolin was only a child however so he would have to be extra careful with addressing him.

The little lord wiped his eyes and turned to face Ornstein. Though his crown covered half his face you could still tell how upset he was. Gwyndolin’s face was red and damp with fresh tears, his lips trembling ever so slightly. 

“I promise I wilt returneth the safety back to thy home and protect thee and thy family” Ornstein said with certainty in his voice, looking past Gwyndolin and directly at Gwynsen. They wouldn’t be able to see this through his helmet but both Ornstein and Gwynsen knew their gaze was shared. They would have to finish their discussion later but for now... It still hurt. The thought of never being able to see his partner again made him Ill. 

A thump at his chest woke him from his thoughts, feeling a pair of arms fitted tightly around his back.  
“prithee be careful, sir Ornstein” Came a sniffled voice from beside Ornstein’s head. He realised what was going on and the pain in his heart only grew with it. Gwyndolin had fallen to the Knight’s level, enveloping him with a hug. The knight smiled under his helmet and gently hugged the Lord back. Gwynsen smiled warmly from behind Gwyndolin, watching the two share such a tender moment made him almost forget about the immense stress he just put himself through. 

He held Gwyndolin there for a moment before deciding it was time to head off before this got out of control. The Dragonslayer let go of the little lord and picked his spear up yet again. Gwyndolin stood up again and gave a small hug to Gwynsen before running off. Probably to meet his sister. 

“I don't wanteth to has't to scrape thou off the sidewalk” Gwynsen said firmly as he watched Gwyndolin leave. Ornstein looked at his prince, so much he wanted to say to him yet... he kept his mouth shut and nodded. He just wanted him to stay here and he safe but with him being the god of war, it would be difficult. Difficult to convince him to do so and difficult for him to do so without worrying over his knight. 

They both had a job to do and with no Lord watching over their every move, it somehow became more nerve wracking. 

* * *

These memories flashed before Ornstein with such strong emotion, it was almost too much for the already exhausted knight. How long has he been here? He slowly began to open his eyes, his senses flooding back to him as quick as they possibly could. First came sight. 

He was in an abandoned building, dusty and dimly lit. Looking straight up he saw cracked stone, the sort that looked like it could fall at any moment but was too strong to do so. Next came feeling. Soft breeze danced over his armour, sending deep chills up his spine as it seeped into the metal. The don’t beneath him was freezing up his armour as well not that he could tell. 

Lastly came hearing. He heard shuffling with a mixture of slithering and hissing from above him. It reminded him of Gwyndolin, except it wasn’t as friendly sounding. He was in danger here. Ornstein felt something roughly jab his arm, a terribly scraping sound of his metal echoed around the stone. 

The dragon slayer snapped his eyes fully open, realising his helmet had been taking off and his hair let down. Probably from having his helmet removed in the wrong way. His eyes darted around the room, seeing multiple... Creatures. They were humanoid to an extent, having the body similar to a human except deformed. Their backs were hunched forward, legs horribly body and skinny. There were three of them in the room and they all backed away from him... In fear? 

They appeared to be wearing wraps around their head but they were in shambles, all ripped and dirty. It disgusted the knight. It wasn’t until he looked closer that he saw something hiding within their ragged fabrics, it appeared to be a large serpent. Was it attached to them, were they horrible beasts or has he finally gone mad? 

He jumped to his feet and snapped his head around the room for his spear and helmet. His survey came back unsuccessful, it was not within eyesight. Why was he not being attacked? 

Ornstein watched as the beasts backed away from him with caution, they looked afraid. But that can’t be true, right? He got ready for them to attack, getting into a defensive stance. He was certain they’d ambush him soon. His muscles were screaming in protest but he could do nothing but keep going. He came this far and now was not the time to back done. Ornstein couldn’t give up hope, he needed to see that man again, whoever he was. He needed him. He needed him as much as he needed a swing from his estus bottle... Which was empty on his waist. 

The dragon slayer looked through the hair that had fallen over his face, watching for any sudden movements off the beasts. Ornstein watched as the men stumbled back in fear of him, moving out of the way so a small arch way could reveal itself. Through the archway there was a small piece of land and then a sea of blue. A swam of clouds crossed through the sky, they were gently and soft. 

“You... Are afraid of thee?” Ornstein spoke quietly, more to himself than to the beasts. We’re they afraid or simply leading him to his death? 

A horrendous sound erupted from one of the serpent men’s throats, it sounds like a high-pitched hiss turned battle cry. Ornstein flinched at this, deciding his best option is to flee. He can’t defend himself in hand to hand combat with a beast no matter how skilled he was. 

With a sudden and loud scrape of his metal boots he sprinted out of the room. The blood pumped through his veins violently, desperately, dangerously. His body couldn’t keep up with his legs, he had barely any energy yet he pushed himself over and over again. He darted around the corner from the archway to be met with a rickety bridge made out of wooden planks. There were no railings and it looks like it would fall apart in an instant. Ornstein just had to take that risk. He had nothing to lose but everything to gain. He needed this. 

Ornstein looked behind him and was met with the three serpent men staring him down but not daring to move. Was it because they knew of how dangerous the bridge was? Maybe. He opened his mouth to speak, to question yet he realised it wouldn’t work. They wouldn’t be able to speak English. Not even that, he has no idea what he could even ask. 

‘hey have you seen the man with no face who I barely remember?’  
‘hello you disgusting pricks, where’s my spear so I can murder you?’

Neither of these would work in his favour. He only had one choice. 

Run

Ornstein acted before his mind had a chance to keep up. The wind yanked on his long hair as it whipped up behind him in a panic. The air was so cold it might as well be cutting his face from how much it hurt. The dragon slayer felt the wood wobble beneath his feet and the adrenaline picked up its speed. The metal bearings keep the wood in place snapped and crackled under the weight of him. Ornstein leaked through the archway at the end of the bridge, falling to the ground and rolling across the floor. He didn’t have time to catch himself before he slammed against the wall, letting out a loud cry in pain. 

His vision began to darken, a tingling sensation ran through his body and deep into his skull. He looked around in a panic, soft groans and gasps escaping him as he clutched the back of his head. 

Ornstein pulled his hand away from his scalp, shakily bring it close to his eyes so he could focus. Dark red was splotched across the bright metal of his gauntlets. How pathetic. He can’t even make it across one simple bridge yet he dares to call himself a knight of Gwyn? Pathetic. He pushed his head up off the ground, arms planted into the rough concrete beneath him. Ornstein pulled his knees up, getting up onto them. He had to fight. He had to find this man again and claim him.

On bruised and weak knees be crawled, he crawled out into the open. Into the sun. Into comfort. The sun would comfort him. In a weird way he felt Lord Gwyn looking down on him. Would he be embarrassed of what his dragon slayer had become? Would be maybe be proud? No. Unlikely. He wished upon it though, he wished the Lord would be proud of his duties. He wished that if he were to die right now, he could die in peace knowing he made His lord proud. 

Tears had begun to stream down the Knight’s face, he doesn’t know when it started to do so but it didn’t matter. The earth finally broke him yet he still refused to hollow. He had lost hope, beaten, blood and with a busted skull on the ground of an unknown environment. He shall die. But he shall die knowing he tried his hardest. He fought tooth and nail for what he wanted. Ornstein looked up into the sky, clouds mocked him with their gracefully plight over the distant blue. They mocked him for giving up. He was alright though. 

He would be forgiven. 

Ornstein’s vision had turned red, not from pain. No. But from the blood that had run down into his eyes from his head. He could see something though, a bonfire. It meant nothing to him, but to an unkindled it meant sanctuary. They must be here. What a putrid way to go out. By the hands of those disgusting vermin. 

To the left of that bonfire was a large lever and a bell. Bells like in lordran? Maybe. Maybe it just might save him. This place must have a ruler and if that ruler knows of Lord Gwyn then he will be saved. He should be. 

He regained hope. What little he had left, he clung to like a security blanket. It’s all he had now. 

Ornstein has to put his faith in it


	6. Blood drawn, well met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deadly battle between a horrendous beast became the start of the end. What would Gwynsen even do without his lion knight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a huge thank you for the support, I've been getting emotional from all the lovely things you've said 😭 it makes me so happy that you're enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it!! This one is a long one! I'm inexperienced with writing battle scenes like this so I'd love some feedback if you have any! Thank you again 💕 enjoy

Everything was so fast now. So fast that Ornstein could barely catch his own thoughts before they flew away from him. The clatter of armour felt so loud in his ears, he swore he could feel them bleed under the pressure. This was so much for him to handle, he needed to think of something else. He thought of Gwynsen and for a moment that made him calm but not too long after he wanted to vomit. The intense pulling at his stomach began when he thought of the arranged marriage that Lord Gwyn was putting in place- 

No. Think of something else. Make something up. He basically screamed at himself too within his own mind. 

It wasn’t until he was running through the outskirts of Anor Londo with his knights by his side that he realised just how dangerous this was. They usually travelled by horse but considering how close it was, it would be a waste of time using them. He’s never fought something so close to home and he never wants to do it again. A wyvern being this close to Anor Londo was unusual, how could it even have happened? He would have to find out later. These knights have been training for a moment like this for a while now with Ornstein as their teacher. He went in day in and day out training these knights and today was their final test. His legs tired from stepping through the snow but luckily his armour made it easier than it would’ve usually been. 

Everything didn’t feel real to him, he used to be excited to get back out there but he felt numb to it. He needed to stop and relax but how could he relax? How could he relax when he was fighting for everything that he’s worked for. That will also be taken away from him soon? His home he shared with the other three Knights of Gwyn. His home he shared with Gwynsen’s soul, clinging to it for dear life. If it wasn’t for the prince then who knows where he’d be now. Definitely not here. Definitely not. 

When they got beyond the functioning city Ornstein could feel himself begin to slip. There were a couple of abandoned buildings but nothing too crazy, it was a place where the Knight’s often trained as it was far from residents without being in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t much besides that, there was no grass and it was mostly dirt and rubble. Why would a wyvern ever want to stray so far from their home that they come here of all places? 

Once their pace came to a halt, the archers began to setting up their great bows in a far and safer place than where the others would be fighting. He could hear Gwynsen speaking to the Knight’s and most probably to him yet he wasn’t able to pick up a single word. All he could hear was his voice yet make no sense of it. His tone was all he got, his voice without his voice in a way. Was he hollowing? No that’s crazy... Right? Ornstein’s thoughts were running faster than he was before, fleeting from his mind before he could even take a breath. 

His grip on his spear stiffened, eyes darting to try and find something to stare at so he wasn’t appearing blank. Ornstein fiddled with the armour plates on his fingers, growing more and more anxious as they waited. They waited for something in the deafening silence of the ghost town. Was that a tumble weed? No, Ornstein needed to calm down. He was seeing things now. 

A familiar face, or should I say helmet appeared at Ornstein’s side. It was that of Artorias. He saw the deep blue dye of the fabric clinging to his armour before the knight himself. He was so antsy, he wanted this over and done with. Artorias was always so energetic and just 'the funny guy' yet he knew when to take this seriously. 

“I heard thou got the news first, any idea what this thing is doing near Anor Londo?” he questioned, turned his head to Ornstein. They couldn’t tell each other’s expressions through their helmets but they had a good idea. 

Ornstein swallowed harshly, having gotten cotton mouth from his anxiety and fast breathing.  
“i... don’t know” he said in a hushed voice. He was so quiet. Ornstein was usually a very introverted person especially in contrast to that of Artorias or Gwynsen for that matter. He couldn’t see it but the wolf knight frowned at how nervous Ornstein was. It was unlike him. The dragon slayer was always up for a battle, especially against a beast yet here he was. He was acting like a knight who’s on their first day at such a battle.

Ornstein took in a deep breath and held it. One, two, three. He let it out. Much better. 

“The meaning escapes me as to why such a monster would loom around the holy city. I have to send some knights to survey the city outskirts once this is over.” Ornstein spoke with fake certainty. As long as he could keep everyone else sane, he could at least act like he felt the same. 

As he concentrated on this, Gwynsen watched him from across the plain. His eyes were fixated on his knight the entire time they were out there and he knew exactly what was going through his head. He felt the same way, mind racing a million miles per hour. The Lord didn’t want to be here either. He wanted to go home and never see the light again if it meant he’d have to share it was a woman. They could always try some elaborate plan where they use one of Gwyndolin’s role reversal rings but... no that wouldn’t do. What’s the point of being in a relationship if one person can’t be themselves? Ornstein would have to change everything about him. 

He wouldn’t be able to even act like himself or dress like himself. He’d have to come up with an entirely new persona-  
A deep bellowing noise came from above them. It was a fair distance away but not out of sight. He saw it, he saw the wyvern.

The wyvern was unlike anything the dragon slayer had seen. It was like from the stories he was told as a child. It was larger than a usual wyvern and instead of immediately flying down for a strike... It stayed on the sky. Its deep crimson colour was still visibly through the thick snowy clouds as it bested its wings against the sky. Its neck was spiked up and it looked old, beaten. Its time was up. Ornstein heard Gwynsen talk to the archers, telling them to shoot at will. That was a good idea. Any damage was still damage at the end of the day and would be worth the trouble for a victory. 

Everything began to pick up its pace again, going faster and faster and faster. The knight felt as though he’d pass out. The wyvern in the sky got hit with a couple of arrows, a loud roar echoing through the atmosphere. It felt pain. Deep, deep paint within its body. It wasn’t a stupid creature though. The arrows hit its wings, one hitting it square on a joint. The beast seemed to survey for a place to land and decided to do so far away from them. Perfect. This would give his knights time to prepare and attack. Not too long but it was long enough. 

Artorias unsheathed his great sword and Ornstein tightened the grip on his spear. He had to fight for the safety of his home. The dragon slayer called upon his men to join him in battle, sprinting to their positions. This wyvern seemed so different, unusual even. It didn’t react like other beats would’ve. It was shot yet it didn’t fall immediately, screaming in agony and writhing on the ground pathetically. No, it did none of that. 

Ornstein spoke of what positions each knight would take against the beast. He spoke these words but none of it ran through his mind, becoming like muscle memory for his tongue and jaw. His legs began to react before his mind, charging him into the heat of battle. The wyvern landed firmly on the bare dirt beneath them. Its claws digging into the earth sharply, seeming to prepare for their attacks. Odd. They don’t usually do this. 

Ornstein halted before the beast, charging up the lighting in his spear. This meant he had to focus, forcing himself to completely wipe his mind if he wanted this to work. It was hard and heavy to do but the payoff was always worth it ten folds. 

There was something absolutely... Amazing about watching Ornstein fight wyverns. Gwynsen couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was. Was it the agony in which the beast felt once it had been struck? Was it the grace and smooth movements of his faithful knight? Was it the war itself or was it the man under the suit of armour that stroked that fire inside of the god? Maybe... Just maybe it was. Gwynsen couldn’t help but be proud of his partner. He loved that fire and energy that was hidden behind that lion helm. This energy that only came out within the comfort of the prince’s company.

Fuck. Gwynsen loved him. 

The deafening crackle of lighting struck around Ornstein’s spear, lighting up the battlefield. The sharp energy swirled around the end of his weapon, becoming just about blinding. There was something different about his energy, it was... Angry. He was venting his emotions through battle and Gwynsen could see this, forcing a frown on the prince to form. Artorias was quick on his feet, sprinting to the right side of the wyvern as a distraction. A couple knights followed behind him to make him more noticeable. This worked. How? The wyvern seemed different, maybe they were reading too much into it. Arrows continued to fire at the wyvern, carefully now as to not strike one of their own. 

Ornstein’s gauntlets of metal scraped against his spear as his grip tightened, holding it low at his hip. With a kick of dirt from behind the knight he began to charge at the beast. Artorias knew exactly what to do, stopping dead in his tracks and keeping the wyvern distracted for Ornstein to take a blow. His masked face shot a look at the dragon slayer from beside the beast, watching him charge upon it. 

A loud bang caught the wyvern’s attention instead, sharply turning towards one of the black knights who threw a firebomb it’s way. Good work, they messed up their plan. Artorias' face dropped from concentration to pure anger at this. The knight who threw the fire bomb seemed to panic at the sudden attention from the beast. They didn’t expect it, they weren’t as prepared as what they thought. Ornstein saw the look in the wyvern’s eyes and feared the worst. That knight would either be eaten, set on fire or worse if he made it out alive. Ornstein had no idea what he’d say to him for such a stupid decision when they could’ve been done right then and there. But that knight was just scared, Ornstein was like that once. Change of plans. 

The dragon slayer hualted his charge, sliding against the dirt for a short moment. He tossed his spear to one hand and spun his body around. With every piece of strength in his body he charged his spear. With a deep snarl off the wyvern, Ornstein’s spear was charged with a force only powerful amongst the gods. How he could conjure such a thing was a mystery to everyone including himself. He was determined to not see a Knight’s life be lost today. 

A strong sweep on the beast’s tail brought him back from his deep thoughts, forcing him to leap backwards to avoid the blow. Looks like it wasn’t so interested in that knight after all. A couple knights were bashed by this blow, not that Ornstein could blame them. It was unpredicted and unusual wyvern behaviour. They weren’t trained to deal with this sort of behaviour nor were they ever meant to be; this was something even Ornstein wasn’t prepared for. Its attention being so easily taken was so odd. Being so easily taken. No. 

The dragon slayer's mind wondered with this thought, wondering away from the beast itself and to something much more sinister. His brain escaped his grasp as he mindlessly fought the beast. Being so easily taken. That’s what Gwynsen will be known as soon. As least to him. His partner who was snatched by an unknowing woman who thought she married the man of her dreams. A woman who thought she married a faithful man who would be devoted to her. That’s not the truth. What she would marry was a god who was devoted? Yes... Just not to her. He would be devoted to his faithful knight, a man. This would absolutely destroy her to find out. 

Would Ornstein still lay with him if he decided to go forth with the marriage? Well he’d have no choice now would he. He couldn’t leave, he loved him and it would just make him hollow out if that’s what he was forced to do. He couldn’t bear the thought of not having the god within arm’s length of him. He needed him. They needed each other to function properly. Ornstein was so lifeless before Lord Gwyn came into the picture, choosing him to be one of his knights. To think that his knight, used to protect his family was instead... Being used in such a vulgar way. In private. Ornstein couldn’t help his self-hatred creep up his back like a thousand spiders ballroom dancing. He hated himself for what he got into. He hated himself more that he couldn’t leave. Why would he want to? That meant leaving his beloved prince. No. He can’t. 

Ornstein couldn’t move himself now, he felt stuck. In more ways than one he really was stuck. Which was worse? His legs refusing to move no matter how much the knight tried and tried against his muscles? Or how he was stuck within his relationship. All he wanted was a peaceful and simple life with Gwynsen but that’ll never happen as long as Gwyn is in charge. NO. WAIT. 

Ornstein felt his body ooze and drain against the weighted barb in between his armour plates. The wyvern had attacked him while its attention was focused on other knights. How can this be, it’s not paying any attention to him? The wyvern’s tail had struck deep into Ornstein’s abdomen, lifting him up and digging itself deeper into his flesh. Ornstein was never vocal when it came to the battlefield. He was always silent when he fought, not even a groan escaped him. But now. Now he screamed bloody murder. He felt his organs contract with the trauma being jutted into his bones. Ornstein’s limbs hung loosely off his body as he was lifted up by the tail of the beast. His vision became hazy but he fought to keep his eyes open, staring down at the ground so far away from him. A bright red colour gushed down the wyvern’s tail, painting a morbid picture of Ornstein’s insides. 

He would’ve thrown up from the shock if his stomach was still connected to the rest of him. The dragon slayer could see it through. His spear, crackling away on the ground. He assumed it was his spear, his vision was so blurry that it could’ve been another fire bomb and he wouldn’t have figured it out. 

Gwynsen stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Ornstein’s cry. He was still with the archers, figuring this would be over quickly and without worry. He was wrong. His knight was strung out along the wyvern’s tail like a lifeless doll, hanging loosely in the air as the wind tugged at his hair. The red hair that flowed strongly out the back of his helmet whipped with the air. His head moved lifelessly with the flow of it. There was no way Ornstein wasn’t dead. He believed it. That was it. It was all over, everything he ever worked for was gone. All those nights he just sat and talked with him, held him, danced with him. Gone. It didn’t matter anymore. Gwynsen wanted to wake up from the nightmare that clouded his vision. The world seemed the darken around him, the only thing in his world being his love. Dead. 

Artorias felt like he was going to be sick, the act so Inhume that only a beast would be able to offer such a dishonourable death to a knight. Let alone a knight of Gwyn. His attention snapped from his captain, down to the spear that was discarded on the disgusting dirt. 

With a deep bellow from the wyvern it jerked it’s head in pain, lighting coursing through its veins. Artorias had pierced the spear deep within the body of the wyvern. This would’ve been handled greatly, a dead beast. Ornstein could die easy knowing his mission was accomplished, his home safe. His Lord safe. Yet this was not the case. The wyvern was in fact dying but not without a fight. The tail of the monster curved to its left, Ornstein’s body limply moving with it and beginning to slide off the barbed end. With another snap of its tail the dragon slayer flew off the end of the beast, becoming airborne for a short moment. It was then he didn’t feel anything. 

He was like this for only one second at most but it felt like an eternal comfort. He had slain the beast. It was going to be okay. If only he knew that was not the case. 

Ornstein’s armour connected with the thin and weak stone of one of the many abandoned building which littered the outskirts of the holy city. Metal collided with the heavy stone, shattering the wall to pieces and letting him fly through it. A harsh smack rang through his ears and he finally came to an end. The lion’s helm had been punctured during his collision with the building, piercing through at multiple angles. 

The body of a faithful knights laid limp on the ground amongst the rubble and pooled up blood that seeped from his armour. He didn’t dare move, wanting to take in his final living moments. Metallic liquid spread over his face and mouth, running like a tap into his aching jaw. Two gauntlet covered hands unclasped the sides of his helm, yanking and throwing it aside. If he were to die, it would not be of drowning on his own blood. 

He regretted every moment he fought to keep consciousness. The helm came off his head but didn’t leave empty handed, his upper lip had become barbed to the inside of the lion’s snout. Once he flung it off his face, the skin tore upwards and released yet another tap. That horrendous metal travelled over his taste buds, screaming at him. It screamed at him every single word that Gwynsen taught him to not think. 

‘You’re a disgusting coward. How could you let yourself be so distracted? And to die in such a lowly way... Pathetic. Why did Gwyn even pick you? Was it just a joke between the royal family to see how long you’d last? Wouldn’t be surprised.’ Ornstein couldn’t muster up enough pride to keep it together. Instead he decided on something more. He decided on forgiveness. If only they could forgive him for what dishonour he brought upon Lord Gwyn. Maybe then he could die in peace. 

Meaning escaped his thoughts, his pointless stare at the crusted and old ceiling drowned out what noise he heard. There was something bright beside him, so blindingly bright yet he couldn’t make out what it was. It didn’t matter. It would be over soon.

Soon. 

* * *

The next time he gained consciousness, he couldn’t feel a thing. That may just be a good thing though. There was no pain anymore, just darkness and the soft beating of his heart. Ornstein was alive somehow; he didn’t know how. The meaning escapes him. He was awake now but he desperately didn’t want to open his eyes, terrified that he would be met with the jaws of that... Monster. Wait he wasn’t dead? How is that even possible. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt something cold run across his right cheek. It was damp and left his skin feeling like ice against the air around him. That feeling soon disappeared however, he probably had a fever. Yeah...that would explain it. Ornstein still had no idea where he was or what was happening but he somehow felt calm. 

There was something on his left cheek though, it was soft in some places but tight all over almost trying to constrict his facial movements. Once he started to examine his surroundings he then realised where he was. Ornstein was in his bed chambers, more specifically in his bed. The balcony must be closed this time though, otherwise he’d feel colder than he already did. He was cold and hot at the same time, probably sick from being out in the snow for so long. 

He felt that cold and damp object move over his collarbone this time, it was comforting. It also felt like a rag but he could be wrong. 

Ornstein cracked open one of his eyes, the other not budging under what could be assumed to be bandages. He was right though, it did happen to be his bed chambers. Could he hear crying? It didn’t sound like a person. His thoughts began to scramble. He needed to see Gwynsen. He needs him. 

“look who’s finally awake. Greetings captain” said a feminine voice beside him. The voice sounds so certain, every word said with purpose and reason as if it had been pre thought out. Ornstein always wondered how that was possible from her. He tilted his head to meet where the voice was coming from. His tired eyes meeting the gentle blue of the lord’s blade, Ciaran. She was dressed in full armour besides her gauntlets and helmet, her hair tied back in a simple braid. She smiled warmly at Ornstein, continuing to run the cloth over his skin. He could feel something on the back of his head and reached up with a shaky hand to meet it. To his surprise his hair had been tied in a braid, probably to keep it out of the way. It was more likely that Ciaran just wanted an excuse to play with her captain’s hair. 

“Thou hath contracted a fever so I’m just trying to cool thou down. Thou hath been out of it for about…” Ciaran looked at the curtains that kept the cold snowy air out of the room, deep in thought. The soft cries that Ornstein heard before continued which made his eyes wander around the room. He wanted Gwynsen. He’s probably worried sick. 

“About five hours? Something like that” she looked back at Ornstein, taking the cloth away from his body. Ciaran always knew what was going on with both Ornstein and the others, it was scary. He wouldn’t be surprised if she knew how close he truly was to the prince but it didn’t concern him too much. 

He didn’t know how to respond if he even should. He was so tired. His eyes were so heavy and it didn’t help that one was already closed. Ornstein looked over at Ciaran that was quietly cleaning up the cloth in a bowl on his worn table. 

Gwynsen. 

He took a shaky breath and he held it, bracing himself before beginning to sit up. He yelled out in agony, somehow forgetting about the deep wound in his stomach. He dropped back against the headboard, banging his head and letting out a string of painful cries. Ciaran saw this and immediately dropped what she was doing, going over to help Ornstein. 

“My goodness! Prithee be careful, thou art incredibly injured!” She exclaimed in distress, gently holding his shoulders as a reflex. He couldn’t take it anymore. He looked at Ciaran with strong determination through his pain filled eyes, opening his mouth to speak but instantly regretting it. The stretching of his lips made him groan in pain, both his hands moving to him mouth as a reflex. The Lord’s blame pulled her arms away from her captain, nervously fumbling with her hands. 

That was until the crying at Ornstein’s bed chambers door got mixed with scratching. It sounded desperate. Like whoever or whatever was outside wanted to come into the room like their life depended on it. Ciaran decided to open the door and find out what was going on.  
“Stayeth still for a short moment, captain” She spoke gently, still very much concerned for Ornstein’s sudden movements from before. 

She moved swiftly and smoothly towards the door, he hair swishing as she walked away from Ornstein’s bed. Each step she took was unknowingly agonising for the injured knight. He wanted to tell her what he wanted but there was no way of doing so. He’d have to wait for how ever long it would take to see his prince again. Just go be in his arms. 

Ornstein was so stupid, he shouldn’t have gone in over his head otherwise he wouldn’t have found himself in such a situation. This was all his fault. He wanted nothing more than to just curl into a ball and never leave his room again. He could let himself hollow out and just give up but-

Ciaran opened the door to Ornstein’s bed chambers, being met with a powerful force being flung at her. If it was anyone else then they would’ve fallen over but she remained standing, letting out a small laugh. Ornstein wiped away what little tears began to form in his eyes, he had to keep it together. If he can’t do it for himself than he’d have to do it for Gwynsen. He had to keep it together, just for him. He can do it for him. 

Ornstein was so deep in his thoughts that he got startled with the weight shifted on his bed. He shot his eyes towards its source in a panic. In the back of his mind he was terrified that it would be the wyvern again somehow. Yet this is not was he was meant with. A mass of white fluff was staring back at him from the edge of the bed. His vision was blurry from sleep and exhaustion but he still knew what it was, making the corner of his mouth turn up slightly. Sif was the thing crying from outside his bed chamber door, desperate to get in and check on the Dragon slayer. She was a very smart wolf, it’s funny to think there was a time where Ornstein was frightened of these sorts of beasts. 

Sif wagged her tail and stood on her back legs to try and touch Ornstein with her paw. She didn’t dare jump up onto the bed through, Artorias must’ve taught her not to. Especially when someone was injured as badly as how he was. The knight lifted a weak hand over to the wolf, running his fingers through her soft coat. It helped ground him and stifle his nerves. It was going to be okay. 

“I desire thou doesn’t mind that Sif is hither, I imagine thou heard her at thy door” Ciaran spoke, it more like a question rather than a statement. Ornstein looked over at her from across the room and nodded, continuing to gently Pat the wolf. Artorias must be near then. Gwynsen can’t be too far away from him. 

“I shall be back, Ornstein. I shall retrieve thy Lord, he wanted to see thou once you’ve awoken” Ciaran started,  
“I won’t be long” she finished. She seemed so concerned for her captain, it broke his heart. Ciaran wasn’t even on the mission, neither was Gough. He can’t begin to imagine what he’s feeling right now or if he’s even heard of the state that he’s in. 

Ornstein once again nodded. That was such a relief to him. Hopefully he’d be able to have some one on one time with Gwynsen, he really needed the god’s comfort. It has been a while since he was scared and he never wanted to experience it again. 

* * *

Ornstein cracked his eyes open, he must’ve fallen asleep again. His body felt so drained, he felt like he had actually became one with his bed. He opened his eyes fully and to his surprise he was able to see out of both of them now. The bandages must’ve been taken off from before. Then he felt to air wash over his wounds yet that air wasn’t cold. It was warm and loving.  
“Ornstein don’t move okay?” came the voice of Gwynsen from above him. He sounded tired as well. 

The heat danced across his skin, concentrating on his upper lip, across his eyebrow and on his cheek. He was probably being healed by one of Lord Gwyn's miracles. That made sense. Ornstein didn’t dare move. But he couldn’t help him from looking at his partner he wanted to be in the arms of. Gwynsen was concentrating hard on his work, a soft glow admitting from both the miracle and the god himself. 

The dragon slayer shut his eyes, focusing on the gentle caressing on his face from the miracle. He hadn’t even been awake long but he was already so calm from being near Gwynsen. He wanted him so badly before and how he had him. He was so close. The Lord finished up the miracle and began the process of wrapping the wounds again. 

“You should be able to talk now. Don’t strain yourself” Gwynsen spoke quietly. He’d been here for a couple hours now, watching over Ornstein. Both Ciaran and Artorias offered to watch over him but the lord wouldn’t budge. It was suspicious and definitely odd but neither of the Knights were going to express so. They just bowed and went back to their duties. That was for the best. Sif however had other ideas, refusing to leave Ornstein’s side. 

Gwynsen finished bandaging up his knight, taking a moment to look down at him. He looked so... upset. The Lord thought he lost him, seeing him get thrown across the battlefield like he was nothing made him convinced that he’d never see his face again. Ornstein lifted a hand, gently caressing Gwynsen’s cheek. 

“I’m okay” was all he said. His voice was strained and pain filled. He wanted to spill into sleep again but he couldn’t. Ornstein needed to comfort the frightened lord. It was his duty as his first knight and partner after all. 

Gwynsen frowned at this, his expression washing over with that of hurt. The Lord moved slowly and carefully, leaning over his knight. He seemed to examine every inch of Ornstein’s face, from his hair tied in a messy braid all the way to his weak eyes. The eyes he was in love with that struggling to stay awake for him. Gwynsen lowered himself to reach Ornstein’s pale face, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth without the bandages. The knight wanted to burst into tears, his shivering arms begged his body to cooperate. The dragon slayer wrapped his arms around his prince and held him as tight as he could, fingers gripping into the holy fabrics he wore. 

Because of Ornstein’s injury they were unable to properly kiss but this was all he needed. The Knight’s lips pressed back faintly, wanting to deepen the affection but being unable to. Gwynsen picked up on this and moved to kiss the places he could reach without causing Ornstein discomfort. The gentle and soft skin of his lips pressed against his cheek, his temples and then his forehead. The knight felt so calm with him, his grip loosening because of it. 

Beaten and worn fingers interlaced themselves with one another, their hands joining. Gwynsen couldn’t help but smile sadly at the knight, raising his frail hand up to his lips. He pressed and gentle kiss just below his knuckles, keeping his hand there after his lips left the cold skin. He was warming up now thanks to the prince however. 

“I love you” slipped from the prince’s mouth, quietly. His voice rumbling through the Knight’s hand and directly to his heart. A smile washed over the Knight’s face, his thumb rubbing gently at the prince’s hand.  
“and I love you” Ornstein spoke, sleeping hanging off his voice still. If only they could stay like this forever. The dragon slayer wanted to imagine a life where their relationship was normalised but... No. He didn’t want to get even more upset than he was already. 

The usually energetic and easily excited Lord had to come back before Ornstein could fully recover. Both physically and emotionally. Gwynsen might've read his mind just then because he smiled. Brightly, forced but it was good enough for him. He needed it. 

“Mind if I play around with your guts?” he asked with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Ornstein stifled a laugh, his grip on the prince’s hand tightening because of it. 

“As long as you don’t mind me falling asleep on you” Ornstein joked, making the prince laugh. They both heard a playful growl from beneath them and were rudely reminded of Sif remaining in the room. Both men looked down at the bundle of fur laying on the ground besides Ornstein’s bed. Her tail wagged excitedly to see the knight awake, staring up at him with big blue eyes. Ornstein smiled genuinely this time, gently wrapping an arm around Gwynsen’s waist. 

“Looks like we’ve been found out” Gwynsen flashed a grin at the wolf and then back at his partner. The Lord turned to Sif and put a finger to his lips, shushing her. Ornstein couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the exchange. 

“And guess what Sif? No one’s going to believe you” Ornstein teased playfully. Even though Sif couldn’t understand him, she picked up on his tone and stood up. Her tail continued to wag, picking up speed and barking at the two of them. It was quieter than when she barked at Artorias while they were playing. Sif must’ve picked up how tired Ornstein was and decided to be quieter as to not give him a headache. She really was smart, Ornstein regrets giving her such a bad impression when they first met. 

Gwynsen turned his attention back to Ornstein,  
“I do need to heal up your stomach wounds though” he said in all seriousness. The knight sighed and nodded. They had to heal him slowly, bit by bit so he could recover faster without nasty scarring. If they healed him too fast it would look ugly, Ornstein was already a bit antsy about his appearance so he wouldn’t want to make matters worse. 

* * *

The snow just outside the Dragon slayer’s balcony seemed to still be raging on furiously. Hopefully it would die down soon but all of Anor Londo knew it would stay like this for a while. They always had such harsh winters and this was not out of the ordinary. Sif was comfortable in these extreme climates, all bundled up with her thick coat of fur. She had walked out onto Ornstein’s balcony where she say and bit at ear snowflake passing by her face. Every so often one would touch and melt on her nose, making her snake her head and lick it off of her. Sif was having too much fun playing with the environment to hear what was going on under the sheets of the Knight’s bed.

Ornstein watched the Lord with heavy, half lidded eyes. He was ready lost in pure bliss that he completely forgot that Sif was even with them. Gwynsen was between his Knight’s legs, putting his eager mouth to work. The god’s hands were both on Ornstein’s inner thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin. The erect cock of the dragon slayer was in the Lord’s mouth, his tongue being dragged across the underside of it with every movement. Gwynsen bobbed his head up and down on the length of his cock, savouring the taste of his partner. He needed to feel him, he needed to know he was alive. This worked out well for both of them. 

Ornstein’s still weak body commanded one of his hands, raking it through Gwynsen’s hair and gently tugging on the strands. His hair was so soft and gorgeous, hell everything about the god was gorgeous. His hair always stood out to Ornstein though, the god loved getting it played with especially with intimate moments like this. 

The muscles of Ornstein’s hips contracted, slightly raising themselves to meet the contact of the Lord’s mouth. It was so warm and inviting. Even more so because of the weather. The wetness of his mouth spilt Ornstein over the edge, giving a gentle pull of Gwynsen’s hair.  
“My... My Lord” he gasped quietly, spreading his legs more for his partner. He wanted to take him so bad but he was too weak to do so. He’d regret it in the morning when he’d be in even more pain than before. 

Gwynsen looked up at Ornstein, his fingers dragging down the length of his sensitive thighs. This made him shiver and jut against him, it was intoxicating. Was this what it meant to be alive? To feel? The knight snapped back to reality when he felt the gentle heat pull away from his cock, shuddering. He could hear clothing being pulled off of the god’s lower body and being discarded onto the floor. With a small thump on the fabrics hitting the floor Ornstein finally looked down at Gwynsen. He looked absolutely captivating in to lighting of his bed chambers, the chilly air tinting his skin blue. His hair appeared more of a icy grey colour rather than the usual white that decorated his strong features. 

His bright eyes seemed to only glow a deeper gold with the light, appearing as though it was the stone itself. They were Glistening with a desire and love he held only for the first knight. Gwynsen had never adored something more than Ornstein, the thought of leaving him for anyone else made him physically ill. Life without this man would tear him apart worse than any Wyvern every could. Ornstein hated how weak he was, how exhausted his bones felt and how shaky he still appeared to the god. His hand travelled up towards his prince, holding it out to him. Gwynsen immediately took it into his own, fingers interlacing themselves with each other like it was muscle memory. 

“I have a thought” Gwynsen said, his sudden expression jumping up into an excited one. This made Ornstein dread what he was going to say but he’d indulge the other man. Letting out a sigh he pulled a small smile at the god,  
“Yes, my love?” He waited for the other man’s response. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too much energy out of him. 

“what if you... What if we switched roles just for tonight?” Gwynsen spread a sly grin across his face, biting his lip in anticipation. Ornstein thought for a moment about what that meant and then once he realised this, the room became burning hot. Or at least that’s what it felt like on his cheeks. The knight turned his head against his pillow, looking out onto his balcony. There sat Sif, absolutely oblivious to the current situation going on inside Ornstein’s bed chambers. A small smile creeped up on the knight as he watched the wolf.

She hadn’t moved an inch, her head whipping from side to side in wonder at all the snow that fell around Anor Londo. The god looked over as well, watching the scene unfold in front of both of them. Ornstein moved his sight back at Gwynsen,  
“Take her back to Artorias first” Ornstein spoke certainly, his opinion on the matter not daring to budge. The god’s smile formed a straight line on his face,  
“But-“  
“Gwynsen, take her back” Ornstein took his hand away from the god’s grip, snuggling back into his sheets. He waved his hand at Gwynsen and let out a small yawn, he really was exhausted. 

The god lifted himself off his Knight’s bed and began to tug his clothes on, grumbling a bit annoyed. Not even at Ornstein, just at Sif for still being around.  
The second Gwynsen left his side he could feel himself begin to slip, his body yelling at him to get more sleep. What a shame, he’d have to give in. The voice of the god rang through his ears but he didn’t get any meaning to it, being too far gone from exhaustion to listen properly. 

A gentle kiss was placed on Ornstein’s cheek, his face getting a small caress from the god’s hand.  
“Get some rest, I’ll wake you up for dinner” Gwynsen spoke quietly, placing another kiss on the Knight’s forehead. 

Fuck. Ornstein loved him. 

* * *

“WHAT? THAT’S NOT FAIR!”  
“Yes it is! You saw that right, Gough?”  
“Im sorry Artorias but she’s right. You lost” 

Artorias, Ciaran and Gough were all sat in the giant’s watch Tower with a deck of cards in from of them. They were currently playing blackjack, a game Artorias was... Really bad at somehow. The game was just basic math yet the wolf knight couldn’t get a grip of it. Every time he lost to one of the others he would throw a hissy fit, not wanting to accept it. He didn’t understand that going over 21 was an immediate loss so when he got 22 and Ciaran got 18 he didn’t understand why he lost. 

Artorias pouted at Ciaran and turned his head away,  
“Whatever” he muttered in defeat. Both the assassin and giant laughed at this. It was a nice distraction from their captain’s current situation. They were all really worried about him but they trusted that the prince would take care of him. 

“Let’s play something else so you don’t start crying” Ciaran teased, picking up the cards from the other two, sorting them back into the small pouch she kept them in. She tucked them away into her bag, stretching her arms up. They had been sitting here a while. Gough let out a small laugh at this, see as the wolf knight hadn’t moved from his current position or expression. Their relaxed conversation stopped when they heard form footsteps coming towards them. Each of the Knight’s turned their head towards the direction of the noise, Ciaran and Artorias jumping up. 

Ciaran threw her twin daggers and Artorias just stood there. He forgot his sword. Typical of him. Their gaze became fixated on the stairs leading up to where they were situated. It was a stair case that wrapped around the entire watch Tower, quite large in size. Gough’s entire watch Tower was made out of polished stone, it was quite beautiful in all honesty. 

The three Knights of Gwyn narrowed their eyes at the stair case. It couldn’t have been anyone dangerous but they were still cautious just in case. This instantly disappeared when they saw a glowing aura appear up the stairs. They instantly dropped their weapons, Artorias just stood their awkwardly. That signature glow was only held by the children of Gwyn and the Lord himself; it was insanely beautiful. It was a gentle hue that admitted from their bodies, gaining intensity with their emotions. 

It was the single worst thing about Gwynsen when it came to hiding his relationship with Ornstein. How he’d literally light up whenever he caught the knight in his eye of vision, whenever he discussed him too. It was a dead give away. 

The prince’s bouncy hair came into their line of sight before he did himself, bobbing up and down with each step he took. It was then when they realised there was another pair of footsteps along with god's own. Gwynsen stopped at the top of the stairs, almost tripping once Sif could smell Artorias. She took off from behind him, through his legs and began to charge at the wolf knight. Artorias knelt down with his arms stretched out, a wide smile spread across his face. 

Ciaran and Gough both bowed at the Lord, giving him a small greeting.  
“How’s Sir Ornstein?” Ciaran asked with her gentle voice, offering the god a seat with them. Gwynsen was close with the four Knights of Gwyn, mostly because of his relationship with their captain. He genuinely enjoyed their company and made an effort to meet up with them when he could, he considered them good friends. The prince smiled at the offer, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to relax for a moment. He’s been so terribly stressed over the dragon slayer as of late. 

“he is holding up quite well, I do believe that he will be back-“  
“ARGK!” Artorias let out a strangled yell at the sudden and painful impact of Sif jumping on him. He fell back against the stone, struggling for air once the wind got knocked out of him. Sif didn’t pay any attention to this, sitting on top of the knight and licking at his face happily. Her tail wagged quickly behind her as she did so. 

Gough put down the latest wood carving he was working on carefully, moving to pick Sif up off of the wolf knight. One of them being injured was enough, they didn’t need two. Gwynsen bit back a laugh at this seeing as Ciaran and Gough didn’t react to his childishness.  
“I beg thy pardon. I do believe he will be back with us shortly.” The prince replied to the blades’ question with a small smile. He really was terribly worried about Ornstein; he wasn’t even away from him for gen minutes before he began to get antsy again. 

Unspoken words between the three other knights confirmed their suspicions. They were correct. It was written all over the prince’s face, the way his aura lit up ever so slightly at the mention of Ornstein’s name. The way that Gwynsen stopped ordering the Knight’s on the battlefield and immediately ran towards the injured dragon slayer. It was a horrible thing but the three Knights have talked about it behind their captain’s back. Every time they found out new information, they would inform each other. They thought they were correct before but now it was being spelt out for them. 

Gough looked at Ciaran, Ciaran looked at Artorias, Artorias looked at Gough.  
Gough picked up his wood carving again, carefully sketching away on the solid orb.  
“My Lord, there is something we have been meaning to talk to thou about for a while now”


	7. Unfair and dishonourable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein is so close to his beloved, so close he could hear his voice. Oh he wishes to know what it sounds like but how can he ask that of him when he doesn't even know his name?

The gentle loving fabric that made up Ornstein’s sheets caressed his aching body in such a way that made him feel like his beloved prince never left his room. He pulled the pastel yellow coloured blanket up to his nose and relished in the heat that surrounded him. The Knight’s only body heat was enough to stop him from freezing but the lingering warmth of Gwynsen made him want to fall asleep and never wake up. 

He couldn’t help but feel the longing in his heart, he was starting to get used to this. Seeing Gwynsen every second of the day and being able to indulge in his urges for his partner. Ornstein loved the feeling of his holy skin under his finger tips as they held an embrace, he loved nothing more than him. Their shared rhythm when they kissed, Ornstein’s hopelessly chapped lips forming a dance they never had to be taught. Gwynsen always had to softest cushions on his mouth, something a human would never be able to replicate. 

A knocking at his chamber door woke him from his thoughts, forcing him to hesitantly pull the sheets down from his face. As much as he wanted to ignore it, it had to be answered.   
“Come in” the knight spoke, his throat a little sore. He hated being so weak, he wanted to get back out into the training field with his knights. 

The person that opened the door was not what Ornstein had expected. He expected it to be a cleric nurses coming to heal his wounds or give him medicine. Either way he didn’t expect the wolf knight to walk through the door. It was a pleasant surprise though, he wanted to see if he was alright after the battle. 

Artorias shot a bright smile over to his captain, his helmet being taken off long before and his hair let down. It wasn’t too long, just below his shoulders laid dark locks that were slick straight. It was a nice contrast to his armour, at least that’s what Artorias said about his hair in the past. 

“Hey Orn, how you holding up?” he asked as he walked towards the dragon slayer’s bed side. He took the chair previously used by Gwynsen and swirled it around so the back of the chair was facing forwards. He crossed his arms over the top of it and leaned his cheek against it, wide eyes staring down at Ornstein. 

The knight let out a small yawn and waved his hand,   
“I’m alright, in need of a drink though” he sighed before a small laugh slipped from his mouth. Because of the whole wyvern mission Ornstein missed out on the four Knight’s pub crawl they did around Anor Londo. He always enjoyed them, it helped take his mind off things and let him relax with his fellow knights. Artorias shook his head and chuckled,  
“once you’re all healed I promise we can all get piss drunk” Artorias teased, swinging his legs on either side of the chair. Ornstein could see something in him, behind those excited eyes. 

Behind Artorias’ friendly face he could see it, he knew the wolf knight was hiding something and he was afraid to find out what. His expression dropped and the laughing man seemed to become anxious at this.   
“Uh cap-“  
“What did you come here to tell me?” Ornstein asked his question with a hint of venom in his voice. He didn’t mean to but he was just so tired, a lack of rest always kept him annoyed. Luckily Artorias took no offence to it. They had usual banter all the time so it took a lot from the dragon slayer to actually hit him. 

“Okay so before I begin... I was put up to this because the rest of them were too much of a coward to say so plus the prince got taken by his sister to do something I... I dunno” Artorias rambled on and on, waving his hands as he spoke. Ornstein usually would’ve smacked the back of his head and told him to hurry up but he actually enjoyed this. It made everything seem normal. The wolf knight was right under him when he got attacked by the wyvern yet... He wasn’t looked at any differently by him. Ornstein just looked at the wolf knight and let out a heavy and bored sigh. 

Artorias kicked himself into action, his fingers flexing nervously. He used to get fidgety whenever he got nervous, something must be really wrong. Either something else had happened or Gwyn had returned. He didn’t know which option was worse.   
“Okay okay fine” Artorias sighed and took in a deep breath, so deep it forced his back to arch towards Ornstein. His head leaned back dramatically before he gave in,   
“Ciaran, Gough and I know about you and the prince” Artorias spat out, jittering away in the chair nervously. 

Any colour in Ornstein’s face drained at that very moment, his stare becoming sharp and focused on the wolf knight seated beside him. He didn’t know how to react, his emotions seeming to die out on him. He was dead. That’s it, Gwyn would find out and then he’d be killed. He can’t imagine what would happen to Gwynsen, he wouldn’t be killed right? Something worse even. He could lie. Yeah. That could work. Ornstein’s thought scrambled and flew past him. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to pick up his things and flee but his legs couldn’t get him far right now. He could get to the door. Maybe. His legs would give out before then though from the pain in his stomach. Ornstein’s irises shot around the room, trying to think of SOMETHING, ANYTHING. If the other three Knights of Gwyn knew than who else did? There would have to be other people there’s no way there isn’t. There has to be, he’s finished. They’re both finished. 

“how did you find out?” Ornstein mustered up, his throat clamping shut on itself and his mouth becoming bone dry. The veins in his arms seemed to become more visible under his skin now, his hands flexing to grip onto his sheets. He needed to keep calm but how could he when the ground was being ripped out from underneath him? Artorias flinched at his tone, giving out an awkward laugh,   
“Don’t be embarrassed, there’s no problem with it-“   
“HOW DID YOU FIND OUT” Ornstein spat at the wolf knight, his face contorting with an anger that he’s never felt in his bones before. 

Artorias jumped at the tone in his voice, a chill running through him. He felt like a knife twisted deep in his gut, cutting him deeper and deeper until he couldn’t take it. He didn’t think anything bad would happen, maybe an awkward exchange but not this. He knew that Ornstein would’ve beared his spear to the wolf Knight’s throat if he wasn’t bed bound. This made him all the more anxious, he could handle physical combat but emotion combat was hard for him to parry. Artorias swallowed the thickness in his throat, letting out a shaky breath. He could see Ornstein vibrating with angry beside him and knew he had to hurry up before this got worse. 

“well...” he spoke just above a whisper before clearing his throat and nervously fidgeting with his gauntlets.   
“Promise you won’t get angry?” he let out another awkward and forced laugh. The wolf Knight’s eyes went from his hands, up to meet his captain. It was too late for that. He was terrified of the dragon slayer in this moment. Ornstein’s eyes only narrowed themselves, becoming fixated on the other man. He wanted nothing more than to just throw him out of the room but he needed answers. 

“Right...” Artorias mumbled and looked back down again, some of his hair falling over his face.   
“We had our suspicions on it for a long time now but when... When uh... The prince came up to give Sif back um... Okay. We asked him about it because it just sort of you know? Felt like... Okay. Lord Gwyn isn’t here and you’re like this so I sort of told the others that when we had to time to then we’d ask him about it but. But ah we did when he came up and... He told us. He told us everything. He really really loves you; you know? He lit up super bright when he was talking about you and...” Artorias ceased his stuttered rambling when he saw the look on Ornstein’s face. He could read him truly now. 

Ornstein looked so pale, like he was going to be sick yet he still kept his angered expression. Tears pricked at the inner corners of his eyes, wavering with every shake of his body. It had just settled into the dragon slayer. It was over. He was already dead, his body just hadn’t realised it.   
“He... Told you?” Ornstein asked, voice thick and shallow. He spoke slowly as to not aggravate the tears; he didn’t want to cry. Not now, not in front of Artorias. The wolf knight nodded, his knees becoming weak. Lucky he was sitting down. 

Ornstein turned his head away from Artorias. He was going to cry and he hated every cell in his body for letting him become so weak in front of his fellow knight. The balcony to his bed chambers seemed to tease him, screaming a future he will never be able to gain. He can never be with Gwynsen the way normal people would. Gwynsen was going to marry and Ornstein would have to end this. The love of his life just...vanished before his very eyes. Was it possible that this was just one of Gwyndolin’s illusions? Was he in a sick nightmare? 

The dragon slayer could hear the chair screech against the floor as Artorias got up, his feet shuffling nervously.   
“Ornstein I...” he started but he got a glance of Ornstein’s scrunched up face, holding in a sob that echoed throughout his entire body. The wolf knight frowned and felt his own emotions picking up speed, tears beginning to form in his own eyes. He didn’t want this; he didn’t want any of this. He just wanted to give his captain an outlet, a safe place to talk about the prince without being afraid. This didn’t happen. He would never forgive himself for this. Ever. 

How long had Ornstein laid in his bed sobbing his eyes raw to the soft noises beyond his balcony? Too long was the answer. His tears were so cold against his cheeks, so cold that it burned his skin. He hated feeling this weak. What was he to do to fix it though? Talk to Gwynsen? How could he do that when he wanted to never see him again. He ruined their relationship. Was this deliberate? Did he want to break off their relationship so he could marry this woman in peace. What if he was just acting like he didn’t want to but in reality, it was... What he wanted all along. 

This made Ornstein sick. He wanted Gwynsen to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be okay even though they knew it wasn’t. He wanted to punch him, kick him, tackle him to the ground and never let him up for air. He wanted his skin, warm and gentle to be again his. He needed his hand to hold, no matter how worn and scarred they had become with the raging wars. The wars they fought together. A strangled noise left Ornstein’s throat, making his whole body curl up in on itself. He wanted his Lord to tell him it was okay. He wanted Gwyn to tell him that he’s welcomed with open arms, that he is a part of the family now. That it...isn’t crazy what he’s doing. Ornstein needed that voice, no matter how dark and deep it became with age. 

My Lord... Please help us.

* * *

A defending noise crawled it’s way up the dragon slayers throat, erupting from his mouth in the form of a cry. Ornstein didn’t know what that memory was forced from, was it just his head injury playing with him or what that... Real. He hated himself in that moment, he couldn’t bare it. 

The stone beneath him nipped at his armour, freezing up the steel that linked his safety together. His long thick locks whipped behind his head still, becoming stiff at his scalp from the dried blood there. He needed to heal himself or he’d pass out soon, from either blood loss, possible brain damage or just emotional exhaustion. Ornstein’s gauntlets scratched against the firm stone beneath his weighted body, he needed that flame before his eyes to keep him from going out. 

That bonfire. 

The flame flickered against the coiled sword embedded deep within the base of the bonfire. If only he could reach it. His steel fingers reached out to it, forcing his body to keep moving no matter how much his head SCREAMED at him to stop and give up. He had a purpose now. He couldn’t remember the man’s name but for a second within him memories he saw his face. He was gorgeous. Whoever he was, Ornstein needed to find him. To apologize. Apologize for what? He can figure that out when he isn’t losing blood at an alarming rate. 

A small voice came from behind him. He would’ve assumed he had finally lost it if it wasn’t for the shadow he spotted on the ground. Ornstein’s mouth was agape, his vision blurry and dark and the throbbing of his head settling deep within his skull. He’d have to fight.   
“Hello? Art thou a fellow unkindled?” came that small voice of a woman. It was rather high pitched and surprisingly gentle. It was that thing. That vermin that set foot in the same environment as him. Disgusting creature. An unkindled made him sick, they reminded him of the chosen undead. Horrendous things that pick and fight and maim at their own enjoyment. 

Ornstein could jump her if he put in enough effort. No. Best not to, he could get more out of her if he played nice.   
“I Believe I hast seen thou before, thy armour appears familiar” She spoke, carefully stepping forward. Her footsteps were just as soft as her voice, there was no clanking of armour. She was probably a sorcerer. That would make sense. Ornstein decided how to act, turning his head towards the girl. He wouldn’t have to act very hard, he was dying after all. 

Ornstein could only see through clouded vision but it was good enough. He saw blonde hair, swept back into a low bun and what appeared to be a blue cleric uniform. The dragon slayer could only make out these things but it was good enough. She gasped once seeing the blood over his head, quickly yet carefully making her way towards him.   
“Thou art incredibly Injured! I shall heal thee, the bonfire rests not too far from us. I can replenish my focus from it” She was talking to herself more than to Ornstein but he didn’t care. This is what he needed. There was only a small bit of him that felt bad for using her. Well, he didn’t say a word, did he? She decided it by herself. 

The cleric girl knelt down beside him and gently wrapped his arms around him,   
“I’m going to lift thee up, okay? It may hurt, I don’t knoweth how injured thou are” what a sweet girl, it’s a shame she was unkindled. Ornstein knew better from those monsters, they killed anything in their way just to gain their souls. 

Ornstein didn’t even register that his body was moving, his body being lifted and dragged quickly against the ground by the unkindled one. His already worn armour would surely gain some more dents and scrapes from the rough treatment. It almost made him angry yet it didn’t, he didn’t have enough energy to feel at the moment. 

The cleric girl sat him up against the wall, bonfire gently crackling behind her. That flame, as dim as it was gave Ornstein comfort. A push to keep going, was it the same for the unkindled ones? The cleric girl quickly walked over to the bonfire, reaching her hand out to the dim light at the base of the bonfire. It happened instantaneous. The bonfire erupted with light, flame picking itself up and whipping up against the coiled sword. Soft embers flicker off the side of the flame, flying in the air for a small moment before dying out. The woman seemed to relax once this happened, her hand coming back to her body. 

She stood back onto her feet and returned to her original objective which was to heal Ornstein. It shouldn’t take long if she was good at what she did. The dragon slayer wanted to squish her under his boot like a bug but he held some respect for her being a cleric. He always enjoyed clerics, they were a very nice group of people as opposed to sorcerers. Stuck up pigs they were, every single one Ornstein talked to on his journey was the same. Pyromancers were usually quite laid back, sharing similar personality traits to Gough in a lot of ways. 

The cleric girl came and knelt beside Ornstein, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and taking out her chime. Ornstein couldn’t quite tell what sort of chime it was but he could hear the soft jingle coming from her hand. It was about time she did her job. The dragon slayer grimaced, both from his disgust in the woman but also the strange feeling of his head being healed. He could feel the cracks and dents in his skull slowly returning back to normal, shaping themselves back in order. He was so uncomfortable but it didn’t hurt in the slightest. Weird. 

It didn’t take long for her to finish casting her miracle, his vision returning to normal. His body finally stopped aching. Slow blinking returned him back to reality, studding the girl’s face. She looked exhausted. She had gentle blue eyes and quite a few freckles decorating her face. The cleric looked like a nice person, it’s a shame Ornstein hated her as much as he did. The dragon slayer was never good at hiding his emotions when it came to his facial expressions, she must’ve seen that because she looked nervous. 

She nervously tucked her chime away, walking back over to the bonfire. She crouched down and began to get her focus back,   
“Thou mayest refer to me as Athena what about thee?” she asked, her voice quiet and nervous. It was obvious this journey of hers had taken a toll on her emotionally. Ornstein still didn’t care for her. He shouldn’t feel bad though, she did this to herself. If she could get herself here then she could get herself out of here. 

“my name is not thy concern” Ornstein spat, instantly remembering to reel himself back. He had no weapon so it would be stupid of him to fight her. Then he spotted it. How could he not have see that glint before? The bonfire's soft light reflected on a piece of metal tightly wrapped to her waist. It appeared to be a broadsword but Ornstein couldn’t quite tell from the angle he was at. 

Athena frowned at this, nervously looking back at the bonfire. Ornstein watched her do this, she was so vulnerable. He could easily take the sword and kill her here yet he wouldn’t. He had more humanity than that. He wasn’t like them. Ornstein wasn’t like her kind.   
“Has’t thee rung the bell?” Ornstein asked, pressing his lips together and bringing his knees up. He had to leave if he wanted to get back on track with his adventure. Relaxing for a moment was okay though but he couldn’t really relax with that maggot near him. Athena shook her head, rubbing her hands together next to the flame.   
“No but I plan to, I believeth it's the only way out of hither” her voice sounded a bit quieter from before and that was because she had become intimidated by Ornstein. No, Ornstein could see it. She knew more than she was letting on 

The dragon slayer had enough of the unkindled girl. He used the wall for support as he got up, surprised at how energized he felt once he was up. Guess she’s good for something after all. The cleric girl stood up abruptly, her hand hovering over her broadsword defensively. 

“I am Athena of Thorolund and thou art Sir Ornstein the great dragon slayer of Lord Gwyn” Ornstein’s expression changed with her words. She spoke with an unknown confidence, her fingers gripped the handle of her weapon. He knew he could fight her if it came down to it but it made him nervous. He hadn’t heard his own name in years, it was foreign to him. Ornstein still knew who he was and had retained his self-identity yet hearing it from someone was so nerve-wracking. 

She was quick on her feet, her eyes locking onto Ornstein’s body as she whipped out her sword. It seemed to light up in her hand, embers flickering around the blade. It must have fire damage. Athena charged at him, swinging her sword towards the Knight with an intent to kill. He was faster than her, ducking below her swing and punching her in the stomach. It was a low blow and dishonourable but Ornstein didn’t care about honour when fighting an unkindled. They didn’t know a thing about honour. She let out a cry of pain, stumbling back from the blow. A loud clang of metal brought them both back from their fight dazed state. It wasn’t until Athena looking at the ground that she realised what had happened. She dropped her sword right at Ornstein’s feet. 

Without thinking, almost like muscle memory, Ornstein crouched down and grabbed the sword. When he stood back up he met the terrified eyes of the cleric girl. She must’ve have any offensive miracles she could cast. What a pity.   
“thou has't confidence I'll giveth thee that.” Ornstein spat, absolutely revolted that someone as lowly as an unkindled would challenge him. It was an insult. 

Athena appeared like she was going to pass out, absolutely terrified of what was to come from Ornstein. The dragon slayer knew exactly how many possible outcomes could appear from this, she’s lucky he isn’t a bad person. Her hands shook as she raised them, surrendering hesitantly. This was a good opportunity for Ornstein though. 

“Giveth all thy equipment” he spoke clearly, staring down the woman with pure disgust. His eyes darted from the cleric girl, over to the doorway and then to the sword held in his hand. Why would she even try to fight him? Was she actually stupid? 

Her fingers shuddered with anxiety, crawling over the small bags on her belt and undoing the clasps on them. She held them in her hands and took a single step forward before Ornstein sternly spoke,  
“Cease, leaveth them on the ground” he made it clear he wasn’t going to be giving her any openings here. She flinched at his tone, dropping them to the ground and stepping back.   
“Prithee... Don’t hurt me” she pleaded hopelessly, maybe she’d hollow out right here Infront of him. That would be a pain. 

Ornstein flicked the sword towards the door way, grip tight in his hand. Time to test his theory. She mustn’t have been intimidated if she decides to lash out at him. Athena, that young cleric girl knows something he doesn’t.   
“I shall let thee go, if thou rings the bell”


	8. Cruel fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four Knights of Gwyn were said to be the most trusted of Lord Gwyn’s knights. They were respected amongst the Lord’s and feared amongst their enemies, holding enough power to be able to take down Gwyn himself. That's a cruel joke told amongst the unkindled. 
> 
> They were nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm finally back to writing about the boys!! Quick update, my twitter is no more but I do have a Tumblr!! It's @holyprincelothric 
> 
> Thank you so much for waiting for this update, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Anger is a powerful emotion. An emotion that could get out of control if not handled properly. A human emotion. Anger is not something to take lightly when in the hands of the wrong person. The sun’s faithful first knight was the wrong person. 

“RING THE BELL” his shouts sounded like a battle cry of a deranged mad man, the grip on the cleric girl’s straight sword was so tight that he would be surprised if it didn’t snap in two. Wide, bloodshot eyes stared down at the trembling unkindled with constricted irises. The usually gentle gaze of his eyes became cracked and turned sinister with desperation. She was going to ring that bell if it was the last thing she’d ever do.   
“ART THOU FOOLISH? WOULD THEE APPRECIATE THY LIFE ENDED SO SUDDENLY?! THE BELL IS A GATEWAY THAT WE SHALL NEVER CONTAIN. A GATE WAY TO THE END!” Athena belted at the top of her lungs, voice strained in her throat that appeared to be her final argument.  
“MY JOURNEY ENDS HERE, THIS IS MY DESTINY. THOU ART MAD TO THINK THEE CAN CHALLENGE DEATH ITSELF AND COME OUT TO SEE THE SUN LIGHT-“The dragon slayer brought the straight sword down upon the cleric girl, slicing a deep wound into her arm. 

She screamed.

Ornstein refused to listen. 

Eyes, soaked with tears of pure fear stared back at the knight. Her silent plea of mercy went unheard as Ornstein took strong steps towards his prey. If she wasn’t going to do it then he’d had to force her. 

There was a part of the dragon slayer that thrashed helplessly inside him, clawing its way up his throat. The clawing at the back of his throat was his humanity, he would have never done this to a woman back in Anor Londo. No matter what a woman would do to him, he would keep his cool and resolve the issue. It was low to attack a woman once she had surrendered like this. His humanity dug it’s claws into the back of Ornstein’s tongue, drawing blood and clinging on for dear life. He was better than this, he wasn’t like those lowly men on the street. He was basically royalty. The dragon slayer's humanity let out its last scream, desperate to convey its importance. 

Ornstein swallowed. He would give it no audience. 

“NO MORE, PRITHEE!” her cries echoed off the stone encasing their emotional encounter. Ornstein stopped in his tracked, studying the expression being held by the cleric girl. Her hair was tussled, eyes red and puffy and her face held a sheen only tears could make. This would usually make the knight sick, but this gave him pure excitement for the blood that shall soon be shed. So many of his friends had be brutally murdered by the chosen undead and now was his chance for revenge on a similar breed of vermin. 

Athena’s sobs grew in volume as her anxiety rose in her chest, shaking hands slowly rising in submission.   
“I did what thou... want- wanteth, I-I gave thee mine inventory. Leave...leave me be” she stuttered, “I-I came here for a reason, to...to avenge mine fallen comrades who fought against that... Beast” Athena squeezed her eyes shut for a short moment while her body let out a string of shudders. Ornstein was growing impatient,  
“What beast? Explain thyself” he spoke lowly, almost growing at her as he rose her own sword once again. If she didn’t respond soon he may not even be able to hold himself back. 

The cleric girl's bright red eyes, stained with tears looked back at Ornstein with pure fear but this time it wasn’t for the dragon slayer himself, no. It was for what laid beyond that simple bell.   
“There’s a um... A d-dragon? No, NO it’s a wyvern and it... it killed mine partner. We have travelled so far together and we wanted... To end this, to end the suffering of our families who had been slain by them. Their kind-“Ornstein felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Enough. Explain the Wyvern” his upper lip, damaged and heavily scarred twitched. He couldn’t take her sob story; he didn’t want to relate to her. To an insect. Ornstein first became a silver knights thousands of years ago for a similar reason as Athena. His entire family, mother, father and younger sister had been ripped to shreds before his eyes when his village was attacked by three wyverns. He was only ten years old at the time, being forced into an orphanage where every day was torture. He just wanted them back. Ornstein would’ve given his life just to reunite with them and he tried. 

“Ser Orn- I...i do not know what the beast looks like nor its mannerisms but... All of mine comrades fell to it. I only know based on rumours it- in my things there’s a journal, look for thyself” she pointed a shaky hand towards the small leather book that was left discarded with the rest of her gear. Ornstein glanced at it and took a couple of steps back, sword being lowered and attached to his waist. She shouldn’t be a threat now but Ornstein was not going to put his guard down now. It was too soon to trust the cleric. 

“There should be...be a diagram of a wyvern” she stuttered, watching the knight with shaky vision was he walked away from her. The dragon slayer knelt down to the dusty ground, grasping the journal and beginning to flip through the pages. There was multiple pages of writing and a couple of drawings of placed he recognised, Lothric castle being one of them. His eyes darted over each scribbled word before falling back on her, turning a page. How long had he been searching for something that he didn’t even know if it was real? Too long. Too long and it lingers in his vision, clouding it with dread as he frantically flipped through each page. 

A tale split between two pages stole his attention, the writing almost forcing him into the paper like it was the painted world itself. He saw his name and froze.

* * *

The four Knights of Gwyn 

The four Knights of Gwyn were said to be the most trusted of Lord Gwyn’s knights. They were respected amongst the Lord’s and feared amongst their enemies, holding enough power to be able to take down Gwyn himself. Hawkeye Gough, skilled archer. Locked away in a tower and left to turn to stone. Artorias the abyss walker, consumed by the abyss... Kind of ironic. The Lord’s blade, Ciaran joined him in death having been killed by the chosen undead. Dragon slayer Ornstein, captain of the four Knights of Gwyn ran from his duties once his fellow knights had fallen. He had gone mad, speaking of a man that didn’t exist and saying a ring was talking to him.

* * *

Steel ripped through paper as Ornstein tore the pages from the book. They turned to shreds in his fingers from the rough metal of his gauntlets, becoming difficult to pick up. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes stinging in agony and a growl in his throat. He wasn’t crazy and he didn’t run away from his duties. That book was a lie, he wasn’t a traitor to his people. He would never run from a fight. How dare they paint him like that. An unsettled yell left his throat as he quickly shoved the pages into the bonfire. He was so rushed to get the paper off his hands. it was almost like the pages were branding his fingers with their lies. Athena curled into herself just that much more as she watched Ornstein rip apart her journal, eyes watery with pure fear of the man.

The dragon slayer held his hands out in front of him, a familiar warmth wrapping around the ring finger on his right hand. A band of golden metal wrapped around his fingers, caressing his flesh and whispering gentle things to him. Gentle words telling him that everything is alright and to keep a level head. The voice that echoed from the ring was deep but he couldn’t recognise it. This piece of metal is what forced him out here, it better be worth it. His lip twitched with anger, the entire time he was here the ring was silent. Ornstein needed it’s voice to stay calm yet it chose to ignore his anxiety.

With tightly shut eyes he took in a deep breath, the anger in his veins dying down ever so slightly from this. The ring praised him for his calming emotions. It was going to be okay. 

Ornstein picked up the book once again and began to flip through just as frantically as before, this time he began to pay more attention to the words being displaying in front of his eyes. They actually meant something now, he had a duty to decipher their lies and find the truth. He was not a trailer. No. He was not. His eyes finally landed on the beast in Athena’s journal. Ornstein had only heard of beasts like this in old fairy tales, he doubts they still exist. It was a wyvern, large in size with an unusual bird skull look to its face. It was covered in what looked like feathers but he couldn’t tell purely because of how... Awful the depiction looked. The drawing looked like it was done by a child. No, a blind child who couldn’t hold a pencil properly. It was awful. The dragon slayer clicked his tongue and slammed the Journal shut, sending a shudder through the cleric girl at the sudden aggression.   
“Thou believe I to be stupid?” he asked in a low voice, dropping the book to the ground with a strong thump. 

Athena violently shook her head,   
“No! I swear on my life, that is the beast that tore... My friends apart” her voice cracked at the last bit, hands quickly swarming her face to wipe her tears. Ornstein felt no emotion towards the girl, only hatred.   
“thou believe this to be true, yes?” Ornstein asked, almost sounding friendly and forgiving. It was a sudden change in attitude but Athena drunk it up and with a quiet voice she spoke,  
“Yes” was all she said before the dragon slayer walked over to her, calmly this time. 

“Ring the bell. If thou art telling the truth I shall protect thee in battle” Ornstein acted as though he was talking to a child, if she drew like one then he might as well treat her as such. He was trying his best to reassure her no matter how fake he had to act. This had to work. For the sake of his journey. For the sake of...

Him. 

A strike of pain ran through his skull, drilling deep into his brain and exploding into his nervous system. He stumbled back, a hand being throw at his head in agony. A choked noise left his mouth, his entire body shuddering with a force he had never felt before. His eyes desperately tried to focus on the area around him but failed. Blurry vision only making out shapes of colour and almost static filled noises surrounding him. He couldn’t handle this. He almost had Athena where he wanted her.

* * *

Ornstein’s whole body shook with an anger he had never felt before in his life. Not even in battle. It stung on his chest and left his knees jittering. He wanted to ball his fists and attack the man in front of him, to bring him to his knees and make him feel what he felt. Betrayal.   
“How could you do this to us?!” Ornstein tried his hardest to keep his voice down, both for his own personal health in fear he would hurt his mouth's wound and for the surrounding castle inhabitants. He didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want them to know so why did Gwynsen tell them. 

That name... Gwynsen. It had a tone to it that Ornstein knew. 

The dragon slayer had next to no energy but all his body would allow him to do was stand. Stand here in front of his love and pour his heart out for him. He was disgusted, betrayed, hurt. Ornstein was already dead, his body just needed to realise it. What stood in front of him was a mystery, a blurred figure with no indications of a face. The figure was taller than him, broader too but not by too much. Just enough to be noticeable. Wild wispy shapes extended from the figures head, silver in colour. The dragon slayer had seen it before... Where... THE STATUES HERE. Was it hair? That would make the most sense. 

The figure opened its mouth, a blurry shape of dark coming from where a person’s mouth would be and it spoke. Ornstein couldn’t hear a thing, everything sounded like gibberish to his ears. He could feel the voice and the punch of every world but he could not know what the figure was saying.

Ornstein snapped, his eyes darting around the room and suddenly becoming conscious in whatever this was he was in. A memory it seemed but... Now he could control what was happening. He’s mad. That has to be why. He’s mad. He’s lost it. He’s hollowing. No. He’s started to hollow out before and it felt...peaceful. This was the opposite.

The dragon slayer watched as the figure shook, what appeared like arms coming to their own face. What the fuck is going on? 

Ornstein looked at his own body, he was dressed loose trousers, black in colour and a white doublet. This seemed like normal clothes he’d wear at... Anor londo? Ornstein turned his body away from the figure, darting to the balcony of the room he was inside of. He almost fell over the balcony as his feet slid over to the railing, fingers tightly wrapping themselves around it. His head whipped back and forth as he took in the environment around him. It was Anor Londo in the winter. Snow fell so softly around him, as a threat, as a taunt. It didn’t suit his emotions or the situation. 

The dragon slayer felt the bandages over his face, covering his mouth. His wound. Interesting. That wound was now scarred over in the present day, a thick scar which robbed him of the ability to fully close his mouth. His teeth were always visible because of it, he felt disgusting. He felt like a monster.

No matter how much it hurt, how much blood leaked into his mouth. He needed to know. Ornstein spun on his feet, sprinting towards the figure that seemed to never quit their routine. It was blank, going along with its movements and not reacting to Ornstein’s frantic panicking. The figure looked like fog once the knight came close to it, he didn’t believe it for a second, a hand shakily raising itself to lay on the figures... Chest? It appeared as such. Finally. The cloud of colour shifted at this, almost looking uncomfortable. Why does it now react to him? What did he have to do to have contact with these memories? He just wanted to know what he was doing on this journey. 

Strong hands gripped at the figure’s shoulders, violently shaking the fog. It reacted to his movements, it tried to get away. The swirls of colour shifted uncomfortably, mouth opening to say something but only nonsense came out.  
“WHAT ART THOU?! PRITHEE TELL ME. I NEED THEE” Ornstein screamed at the top of his lungs, tears threatening to spill from his eyes in pure anger. The figure let out an ungodly noise, a screech that sounded more like an animal than a humanoid figure. 

“I HAST BEEN SEARCHING FOR THEE. GIVETH ME A SIGN, ANYTHING. I HAVE BEEN ON THE RUN FOR THOU FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS. PRITHEE. GIVE ME SOMEGHING. AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR THEE? I CAN BE WHATEVER THOU NEEDETH. I JUST...” Ornstein broke down to tears, fingers digging deep within the smoke ever so slowly. His fingers started to touch his palms as his fingers closed into fists.   
“I just need... Thee” his desperate sobs filled the air, his hands closing around themselves. There was no figure anymore. He was there by himself, hands balled into fists as he violently cried. 

A aggressive snap rippled through the air in waves, exploding from the door in front of him. Ornstein’s head snapped from one direction to another, seeing that the room around him had now turned into a long corridor of pitch black. The only thing being lit was the large wooden door in front of him the light which glistened off the wood looked like the dim light casted off a miracle, one of a god. What did this mean? Ornstein now realised he was wearing his armour again except now it was untouched by the elements, shining under the light which the door allowed out. His helm too was firmly attached to his head, a sense of comfort washed over his mind. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. A sheen of enchantment washing over him, it felt almost calming in the midst of this. His armour had no imperfections as it did just before, no scuff or scratches and the golden metal seemed to shine through just as brightly as the sun. The armour before almost lost all its colour, appearing silver with a slight tinge of gold in some places. He had been traveling for so long that the environment just changed him in a irreversible way. 

A deep bellowing noise came from behind him, a roar of a dragon. Ornstein spun his head around to look behind himself, seeing nothing but the pitch black of what he could only assume to be the abyss. The dragon slayer felt a deep shudder run through his bones. Why was he scared? This was unlike him. This wasn’t real. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. His feet began to move on their own, forcing his body to sprint towards the door. He couldn’t take on the beast by himself, no weapon and barely any energy to even keep his body upright. If he were to attack it would be a suicide mission. His hands moved on their own, flying out in front of him to grab the door. He violently flung himself through it, stumbling as he entered. 

His eyes were positioned on the ground, silently scanning the area he had just barged into. Beneath him was a carpet, deep red in colour, almost a crimson. He knelt to the floor so he could catch his breath. It’s okay. Ornstein snapped his eyes open and looked behind him, suddenly remembering the danger he was just in yet... To his surprise there was no door behind him. Just a bookcase. What the fuck is going on. The dragon slayer slowly brought himself to his feet, surveying the area with thin eyes. This was pointless, he wanted to just go home. To be done with this. Whoever this man was is not worth it anymore. 

What met his eyes made him take a step back. Lord Gwyn’s archives. They stretched for miles upon miles of books and wooden shelves. It was a maze of knowledge that anyone could get lost in if they didn’t know their way around the place. The gold lettering on each spine on each book glittered with help of the soft moon light shining in from the windows. The blue toned light of the night danced upon every surface it made contact with, even the armour of the dragon slayer. The blue shifted his armour into a cooler tone, making it appear so much darker than its original colour. How could he have ended up here? He hasn’t been here in... How long has it been? 

Ornstein listened attentively as he slowly stepped through the maze of bookshelves, trying to make sense of his surroundings and current situation. Why was he now suddenly here? Where did that figure go...? His eyes landed on something that made his body become electrified. That figure was standing so far away from him, next to a table. It looked clearer this time, the outline of the figure’s strong features now appearing. It seemed to hold something in its hand but Ornstein couldn’t figure out what exactly if was. It was thin and long, white in colour. It dangled the object over the table, almost in a teasing fashion. A flick of red flashed before his eyes, coming from the tip of whatever the fogged-out image was holding. No matter how long Ornstein stood there he could not figure out what it was nor why he was here. Everything was happening so quickly now, almost too much for the knight to take in yet he continued to fight for sense in this senseless world he had fallen into. A sharp noise alerted both of the people in the room, Ornstein snapping his eyes open and immediately in the direction of the noise before darting his eyes at the figure. The shapes of colour just seemed to tilt its head down, looking at something. It looked... scared, panicked even.

Someone had opened the doors to the archives.

That had to be someone who could help him, help him make sense of this. Ornstein hated feeling weak but no matter how weak he felt he would never be embarrassed to do this simple task. Pray. The dragon slayer sprinted through the archives, towards the door of the large building as he muttered prayers under his breath. Lord Gwyn could only save him now but even then, his efforts were for naut. Lord Gwyn was dead, buried in the ground by the ashes of the sacred flame. He would have no audience to his Knight’s suffering, maybe even laugh at him because of how weak he had become. Captain of the four Knights of Gwyn, reduced to a mumbling and useless mess of armour. Weak. Damaged. Tired. It wouldn’t be long until he collapsed and joined his Lord in death. He had to now.

A sudden and strong heat wrapped around his right ring finger, almost burning him from how intense it had become. It was desperate for his attention but was it now a figment of the twisted reality he had fallen into or was it real?   
“Ser Ornstein!” Its deep voice echoed loudly through his ears, causing a wince to escape the Knight’s throat upon hearing it. He stopped dead in his tracks, his fingers wrapping around the burning finger. Eyes squinted in a desperate attempt to not let any bundled up emotion slip out through the cracks in his eyelids. Ornstein wanted to collapse and finally admit defeat, this was over. He had lost.

“Ornstein, thou must-“   
“Where hast thou been for the past week?! I needed thee for company and thou abandoned me to fend for my own... This... This is all thy fault...” Ornstein’s knees shook and he finally let go of his composure. A sharp and clattered noise rung through the air as the dragon slayer fell to his knees, eyebrows furrowed and his sight aflame. The current of tears began to flow from his face once again, the sound of his sobs echoing throughout the archives. 

“Ornstein, thou are okay. This is not real, thy reality is warped for thy safety” the voice gently spoke, the burning feeling around his finger now replaced with a cold feeling. It felt so calming against his inflamed skin, was this the ring’s way of apologising? Either way Ornstein felt comforted by the feeling upon his skin yet it could never stop the steady steam running down his face. Each year that left his cheeks dropped onto his armour. A small plink sound echoing off each year drop that fell onto the metal. 

“thou... Did this?” he questioned as his puffy red eyes scanned the area around him. Everything looked real but also lacked detail, like a dream. Just like a dream.   
“I did, yes. Dame Athena must ring the bell and I do not believe thou hast the strength to let her. She is scared of thee, Ser Ornstein. Anyhow... I put thee in this reality so thy mind could wander and thy body could comply to my commands. Like I said, thou art okay” each word spoken by the ring gave Ornstein hope, he felt so calm in its company. A company he didn’t know if it was even real. Just like that story in the cleric girl’s journal, the four Knights of Gwyn. For his own sale he’ll just trust this, worst case scenario he joins the fate of hollows. 

“What... What do I do now?” Ornstein sniffled, a cold metallic hand pushing some tear stained hair away from his face. He misses having it up, he needs to find something to tie it with.  
“Find the figure. These art thy memories, just warped. Fine the figure and we both can continue and find out more about thyself” Ornstein knew what he had to do now, he was given a task and he will follow orders. The knight stood up on two shaky feet, his armour jittering with his body language. He could hear the voice whisper gently about how Ornstein needs to breathe and calm down but he has no time to do so. He needs to find the figure. He needs to find him. 

Small steps. That’s all it takes. Small steps towards the mist of colours, swirling endlessly in the shape of a man. A man with wild hair and eyes that Ornstein can not forget. The dragon slayer quietly walked up between bookshelves, staring at the figure with wonder. It didn’t take long to reach him however.

* * *

Ornstein stood a mere five feet away from the figure, watching intensively to its actions. It seems to grab things that did not exist, in a hurry. The figure swiftly turned on its heels and made its way through one of the archive doors, he forgot what it led to but it seemed like a storage closest. The mist of a man quickly came back to its original standing position, almost sliding into place. His movements stopped, Ornstein’s breath hitched. 

The figure stopped in its tracks, colours swirling around it’s shape viciously. Something was wrong. It knee Ornstein was there. Two eyes snapped open and into the dragon slayer's view. Two eyes he will never forget. Two eyes that screamed to the god’s above. Deep golden irises glared at the knight, pupils constricting in hatred. Those eyes stared at him in hatred, hunger, determination. The eyes that war could only bring out in a man.


	9. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inhale slowly and deeply through your nose. Keep your shoulders relaxed. ...  
> Exhale slowly through your mouth. As you blow air out, purse your lips slightly, but keep your jaw relaxed. ...  
> Repeat this breathing exercise. Do it for several minutes until you start to feel

Ornstein didn’t have time to react before a pair of hands extending out towards his frame, fingers curled and ready to strike. The figure teleported in front of him, hands striking at his faulds. A cry left the Knight’s mouth as he was jerked to the ground, his side pieces of armour being ripped from his body. They were completely unclasped in an instant, why was Ornstein so slow? Or was it simply that this figure was too fast? 

His hands finally reacted to his mind, fist balled tight. His arm launched itself at the figure. Impact was expected yet it didn’t come. The golden armour completely phased through the man, sending Ornstein forward slightly from his own force. It was only now that he realised the room was closing in on him, collapsing into the darkness. The archives formed itself into a small room and Ornstein found himself seated on what looked like a table, completely off his feet and vulnerable. 

The room was so cramped and small, forcing the two men so inseparably close together. Ornstein hadn’t felt this weak in a while, completely at mercy to the figure’s advances. Everything happened to fast, the dragon slayer not being able to keep up with the events passing by him. The room looked like a storage room for Knight’s equipment but- 

Two strong hands were placed upon Ornstein’s waist, spreading his legs further and further apart. The dragon slayer's heart screamed at him to touch the figure, to return the feelings but... his brain screamed otherwise. He gazed at the mixture of blurred colours and the strong, detailed eyes with love. He didn’t know why he loved this. He didn’t know why he reached out. He didn’t know why he was so desperate for more. Ornstein reacted to every touch instantly, feeling a wash of deja vu run over his aching body. The figure pushed his chainmail out of the road and began to undo the fabrics in between his legs, not bothering with the rest of his armour. The dragon slayer's chest huffed with every clink of armour he heard; eyes fixated on the other man. He didn’t know what came over him or why he wanted this so bad. 

A noise left his throat that caught himself off guard, he couldn’t control his movements anymore or his words. It was like his other flashbacks, forced to do whatever his puppet body wanted. He didn’t have a say but he didn’t complain. If anything, he enjoyed living in the past rather than the horrendous present he was stuck in.   
“My lord...” his voice was just above a whisper, a small moan leaving him as his sensitive flesh in between his legs was roughly groped through his clothing. The hands that touched him were so warm, he felt like he’d melt in an instant. Any fear he held in the moment had completely disappeared, filled with a strong lust for the anonymous person before him. 

Ornstein’s hands moved by themselves, desperately grabbing at the figure to bring him closer, to feel him. He hadn’t wanted something so bad in his life, fingers curling into what acted like fabric around the figure’s form. Everything was happening so fast that he was scared he’d be left behind if he didn’t keep up. The form in front of him grabbed his thighs and pulled him close to his body, feeling a burning hot warmth press against the needy skin of his rear. 

The figure spoke to him again yet this time he heard the voice. Clearly. The pitch, the emotion. He felt every punch of it. The voice was so deep and smooth, Ornstein felt as though he may melt just from hearing it. It rumbled in the back of the figure’s throat as he spoke so quietly,   
“you look so gorgeous like this, Ornstein” his voice gave the dragon slayer goose bumps. It was so beautiful... And it was speaking to him. Wait. 

The dragon slayer's eyes snapped open from their half-lidded state as the form before him pushed himself inside. Ornstein couldn’t concentrate, grabbing onto the figure tightly as to not lose himself. That voice is so familiar. It sounded like his ring. We’re they connected? Ornstein quickly pulled a hand to his mouth, muffling any noises that would come out. What he could only assume was the figure’s own length began to thrust deep inside of him, stretching him open more and more. This was too much. They fought just moments before. He was so freighted but now. Now he didn’t want this to stop. 

The smacking of flesh to flesh rung through the air as Ornstein was fucked, the table he was currently positioned on rattled against the wall with each movement. He didn’t feel like himself. He felt like he would’ve tried to take control by now but he didn’t. He completely submitted himself to the other man, drowning in ecstasy. 

“Gwynsen... By...by the gods..” Ornstein let out a soft moan with his words, wrapping his legs around the figure’s waist to pull him closer. He needed him like he needed air to breathe. 

Wait. 

Gwynsen. 

Gwynsen. 

Gwynsen. 

He knows that name. He knows that voice. 

Ornstein leaned his head back against the wall, the illusion using one of his hands to roughly grab at the dragon slayer's throat. The soft flesh of his neck yearned for the skin of his hands, the right grip causing Ornstein to spill over the edge. He couldn’t handle it. A strangled moan finally spilled from his lips, moving his grip to the arm that held him so tightly. It wasn’t a tight grip; he didn’t want the figure to pull away. He wanted it. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to feel something. He hasn’t felt something for so long. The knight helplessly rolled his hips in time with the illusion's thrusts, becoming lost on the sensation of his hot skin filling him up. 

Something screamed at him. To leave. To get up and run away. That something was going to happen if he didn’t but he had no control over his body. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. He was stuck in a prison that was his body. Ornstein never saw his body as anything but a vessel, a tool even. His body was used to destroy and protect. Protect his loved ones and allies by destroying anything in their path. This body of his however was screaming in agony. Ornstein didn’t care, he needed this. He needed him. No, he needed to leave. 

Don’t stop. Don’t let me go. 

“BROTHER! LET HIM GO!” Ornstein froze. His eyes, welled with tears looking over in the direction of the voice and he instantly began to crumble. Time stopped. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel. Ornstein couldn’t open his mouth and speak; he was frozen in fear. Standing before the pair was lady Gwynevere. She had opened the door to the storage closet they were in, having been looking for Ornstein. She didn’t expect to see the display in front of her eyes. It didn’t look good. 

Ornstein sat on top of a table while this man fucked him, hand around his throat so tightly to keep him in place. It didn’t look good. It didn’t look consensual. The dragon slayer felt his heartrate drop, he couldn’t handle it. His breathing became heavy, eyes darting around the room in a desperate attempt to find SOMETHING, ANYTHING to get him out of this situation. He found it. 

Everything happened so fast that Ornstein couldn’t comprehend anything going on around him, the world began to grow dark. The figure faded away along with his surroundings, his armour came back to him and the cold began to caress his steel coverings yet again. His ears stung before he could even hear what was hurting them, a bells tole. It was loud, he could hear wind. Is this death?

* * *

Athena stood before Ornstein with wide eyes and shaky hands, she was terrified. The man before him had crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared blankly at the floor. His entire body rattled, his armour clanking loudly against one another as his body convulsed. The cleric girl had no idea what he just went through, to her what happened was he silently walked over to the bell with her and she rang it. 

“Ornstein?” her voice rang through his ears. He couldn’t help but covered then and lot out a cry of pure agony and fear. It hurt so bad. He thought his ears were bleeding. Why did it hurt. His eyes squeezed themselves shut tightly, his teeth grinding against each other sharply. 

Athena held her hands together eyes darting around for something to do. She couldn’t do anything but watch as Ornstein freaked out on the ground beneath her. She had never seen anything like it, she was afraid it might be some type of seizure. Her fingers flexed and she let out a deep sigh, he eyebrows curved upwards in concern. She needed him alive if she was going to stand a chance against the beast. 

“Okay... Ornstein?” no response, only his cries, I am going to come over to thee. Prithee don’t move” 

“Haah...” a sound, like a man breathing outwards, almost like a moan came straight into Ornstein’s ear. They sounded so close but he knew it was just him and Athena. Maybe. He hoped so. Please. Please no more. Please. Please. 

Please. 

Please. 

Leave me be. 

Please. 

Please. 

No more.

* * *

The void called his name with its devilish tongue, it’s inviting voice and enticed Ornstein in with its warmth. The warmth of love, comfort. Something he hadn’t gotten in... So long. With a shaky breath and even worse trembling hands, he peered into the void before him. There was no bell. There was so Athena. There was no threat. He was in the abyss except the abyss was not a threat. It was a hug. It caressed him like a mother would to her new born child, gentle, caring. Ornstein’s body leaned into the disembodied touch, shivering involuntarily at each grade upon his skin. Everything around him was dark, pitch black. He couldn’t see his own hands or hear his own voice. Yet he felt safe. Nothing could touch him here. Nothing could hurt him. He felt outside of his body, he felt like a spirit. He was floating, not didn’t have a physical form.

Ornstein’s mind wandered. His eyes showed him shapes, swirls of colour. Almost like when you run your eyes too hard and you see stars except this felt different. It felt real. So real that he felt he may be able to touch the reality before him. But he couldn’t. Nothing was real but everything was too real. He wanted to crawl away and never see the sun again. He wanted to crawl forward into the comfort of the darkness, bask in its affection. His mind argued. He could not understand its words. 

The void became something more. It became human. Ornstein began to feel like he was inside his body again, the tingling of his fingertips sending shock waves to the rest of his body. Wake up. His body screamed at him. 

The void breathed. Ornstein breathed. The ring breathed. His mind breathed. His eyes breathed. His skin breathed. 

They exhaled. 

Ornstein was pulled into a new reality, a new memory, a new view. His eyes opened, his mind expanded. He felt larger than any god he had ever met, he was greater than them. All of them. He could feel his eyes moving in his head, each individual hair on his body, his bones shifting under the layers of skin and muscle. He felt alive. He could feel his heart pound in his chest. He could feel his lungs expand. He could feel the void grabbing at his flesh, cutting deep with its fingers. 

He could feel his world around him. His world shifting. Ornstein was alive.

* * *

He was suddenly knelt before Lord Gwyn in a large cathedral looking place. The walls glittered in gold and silver, marble pillars and floors taunted anyone who came to this holy place. It was mockery of their lives, such damaged gods in such a gorgeous place. It was a sick joke and Ornstein was forced to play in it. He was a toy, a trophy to the gods as a knight of Gwyn. It made him sick. 

He was a shiny piece of metal for them to flaunt around whenever they wanted. It made him-   
“Ser Ornstein, prithee rise” Lord Gwyn’s voice boomed to the knight knelt before him. His voice sounded gentle, kind, filled with concern. Ornstein hated it. The lion knight rose to his feet, helmet tucked under his arm.   
“Lady Gwynevere told me about... Thee and Lord Gwynsen. Is what she speaks of” he took in a deep and pained breath, “the truth?” Lord Gwyn finished speaking. His eyes showed so much held back emotion, his sadness blossomed through him. Ornstein swallowed. He wanted to vomit. He was going to vomit. 

“My lord, it is all true. Yet it is not my master’s fault. I asked for him to take me in such a way” Ornstein wanted to take his spear and end himself. Now. Through the heart or off with his head, he didn’t care. He wanted to stop the movement in his heart and lungs. He wanted to stop breathing. 

Gwyn looked to the ground and shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out another pained sigh.   
“thou were pinned against the wall, thou appeared to be struggling. It is okay. My son cannot here us here, Ser Ornstein. Prithee tell me what he did to thee” he began to spill; his arms were crossed in front of him and they were shaky. This hurt him. Not as much as it hurt Ornstein. 

The dragon slayer could feel each drop of blood run through his veins. He needed to leave. He needed to protect Gwynsen. His beloved. His prince. His master. His lover. Gwynsen. 

Gwynsen. 

Ornstein was never a good actor. He was pathetic but that’s what made him a good knight, he was always tell the truth no matter what. This didn’t hell when he was telling the truth however. His fear breathed straight down his back, making his hair stand up. It was cold. It hurt. It felt like needles. He wanted to scream. 

“Lord Gwyn” his eyes began to well with tears. He was weak. He was going to die. No. Gwynsen was going to die and it would be his fault. He hated himself. He hated that they got caught. He hated Gwynevere. He hated Gwyn. He hated himself. He hated Gwynsen.   
“I love thy son. I love my master more than life itself” Ornstein couldn’t lie to him. He could not lie to his Lord. That why he hated the tears that spilt from his eyes and the fear that was held in his eyes. Gwyn saw his fear. Gwyn saw his trembling lips. Gwyn knew what he saw. If only he knew that he was wrong. 

A strong hand came down on Ornstein’s shoulder, his armour clinking under the sudden touch.   
“I apologize for everything Gwynsen has put thee through. He shall not turn thee anymore. Thou art safe.” 

Lord Gwyn saw his fear and his mind immediately came to the only conclusion he could come up with. His son was pressuring his first knight into a sexual relationship with him. That was not the case. Their relationship breathed. 

Breathing void. Breathing Dragon slayer. Breathing ring. Breathing mind. Breathing eyes. Breathing skin. Breathing memory. Breathing armour. Breathing bell. Breathing lord. Breathing lover. Breathing emotion. Breathing betrayal. Breathing love. Breathing future. Breathing dragon. Breathing blood. Breathing sweat. Breathing lungs. Breathing bones. Breathing. Gasping. Clenching. Unclenching. Flexing. Relaxing. Mind expanding. Tongue moving. Eyes opening. Hair flowing. Skin touching. Steel cutting. Memories connecting. Void becoming. Dark was surrounding. Voice speaking. 

Gwynsen. His name was Gwynsen. 

Breathing. Expanding. 

Reality slipping from Ornstein. He couldn’t feel. He couldn’t think. Everything hurt. Everything felt like bliss and pleasure. Everything was nothing. Nothing was everything. Was this real. Was he real? 

He was falling. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t steady himself. He couldn’t. Breathe. 

Ornstein inhaled.   
He was aware. He was conscious. This wasn’t a memory. This was reality. He could control his voice, his movements. His life.   
Ornstein exhaled. 

Ornstein screamed at the top of his lungs. 

He screamed the name of the sun’s first born. Of his lover. Of the man he came to collect. He remembered. 

Gwynsen. 

His screams felt like a different person. His screams breathed. Ornstein breathed his name. Gwynsen. He screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling his skin scream with him. He would not stop screaming his name. He did not want to forget. He only just remembered his name.

* * *

Ornstein began to sprint. He had to warn Gwynsen. He had to save him. There was a chance that he could save him. That he wouldn’t leave. That he could stay and that he would wake up with him in his arms. That this would all be a cruel dream, that Gwyn would actually love them. Maybe he did. Maybe it was because of the situation. Maybe Gwyn would accept them. Maybe it was just Ornstein fault. His throat burned, sore from his screams. He could not stop even as he ran, gasping for air desperately. Gwynsen. The prince of sunlight, god of war, tamer of lions. 

His eyes finally decided to play with him. In front of his face was the halls on Anor londo, clean, tidy, mocking. He hated the halls for what they screamed at him. He wanted reality but he needed his prince. 

He turned a corner and was met with delight. The two large golden doors leading into the bed chambers of the god of war, Gwynsen. Ornstein felt as though he was going to fall apart. He was so tired. His golden fingers came to the door but no sound came from it, he couldn’t knock. He was scared.

This was it. All of these years and he was here. He found him. Ornstein had found his prince. 

He didn’t need to knock. Ornstein grasped the door handle and twisted violently, yanking the door open with a deafening screech. Gold against Gold fought with each other as Ornstein pulled the door open. He found his prise. 

Sitting with his legs crossed on the edge of his bed, fiddling with his hands, saddened look on his face was the prince. Gwynsen. He looked like a painting, ethereal. Each stroke of the paint brush painting a picture of betrayal. His knight had betrayed him. Ornstein couldn’t convince Gwyn that he truly did love his prince. This was his fault. He ruined everything. He got them both killed. The golden irises of the god of war looked up at his first knight, sadness turning into excitement which turned to fear. He was clear picture now, not a figure. He was real. Gwynsen was real. 

Ornstein had found him.   
“GWYNSEN-“   
“ORNSTEIN” 

Ornstein’s voice was scratchy, sore, tired, exhausted. Gwynsen sounded on the verge of tears. 

Their bodies collided into one another, the knight grasping desperately at the fabrics of the prince’s clothing. He needed him. He found him. Their love breathed. 

Gwynsen began to sob, his cries almost sounding like screams to Ornstein’s ears.   
“Ornstein. Baby...” he cried, quickly moving from hugging his knight to holding his face in between his hands. He stared at his lover, his friend, his family and he couldn’t hold back any longer. Their lips met. They crashed together like waves clashing into the rocks. They crashed together like two knights sparing. They fell. But they fell together. 

Lips so broken and dry that held so much emotion came from Ornstein. Gwynsen’s mouth was so soft, so delicate but yet so strong against the other man’s lips. They could take the world. Their pulse raced with one another, their heart beat became in sync. Their blood pumped in time with one another. They were the same person. Inseparable. This cruel reality felt real. 

Ornstein knew this wasn’t real but he wanted it to be. So, fucking bad he wanted his prince. In his arms, against his skin, in his comfort. 

“You’re going to find me again, when I leave this place and go on to another you will find me. We will be free, just the two of us.”   
“Gwynsen don’t fucking... DON'T FUCKING SAY THAT” Ornstein screamed at the top of his lungs, gripping so desperately to the other man. No. This is real. He found him. He can stop fighting. He found him. 

“baby this isn’t real”   
“SHUT UP!” Ornstein cried, dropping to his knees and holding his head so tightly. His gauntlets began to dig so deep into his scalp. He drew blood. No. This is real. 

“You are so close to me... Ornstein.” His voice was so gentle and soft. His cries softened from before, he was guiding his knight. He had always been there.   
“You are almost there” he knelt down. Slowly. Besides his knight he watched him weep and begin to rock back and forth. Gwynsen’s soul watched as Ornstein fell apart. 

“Ornstein. I am real. This is not” his voice boomed through Ornstein’s ears. He couldn’t handle it. 

Two Hands, so warm and gentle came to either side of the Knight’s face. With careful fingers he gently pushed his red locks away from his weeping features.   
“I do not have much time left. This will be over soon, okay?” he caressed Ornstein’s face so gently. “I will explain everything to you when you find me” 

The knight stared at the god before him. He couldn’t bare it. His lips trembled, his eyes burned with passion and the tears that flowed from them. He hurt. He just wanted his prince. He wanted rest. He needed Gwynsen. This was too much. He was going to pass out. He didn’t want to fall into a new reality. He wanted death. 

Gauntlet covered hands came up to rest over the top of Gwynsen’s hands, holding them so carefully but it was too late. The god began to glow, blindingly bright in Ornstein’s eyes. He looked like the sun himself. The knight had seen nothing like it. He began to become light itself, translucent, ethereal. Not real. No. Ornstein grabbed at Gwynsen but he could not take hold of anything. He was already gone. Ornstein’s eyes just hadn’t realised it yet. 

“No no no no no no no NO GWYNSEN!” Ornstein screamed. “DONT LEAVE ME! GWYNSEN!” he cried at the top of his lungs, scrambling for the god’s touch. Nothing came. He was gone. 

The void called to Ornstein again. Everything was becoming dark. 

He could see nothing. He could hear nothing besides his screams and the tearing feeling in his throat. 

Ornstein didn’t know how long he knelt there, screaming for his prince to come back, to hold him. He got nothing but yet he continued to scream. He screamed.

* * *

The void echoed out to him, grabbing at him and touching him the way a rabid creature would touch it’s prey. It was unforgiving. He hated it. He wanted to touch the ground yet he dangled. He could feel nothing. See nothing. Hear nothing. He had stopped screaming a while ago. No noise came from him anymore, he wouldn’t be surprised if he tore his vocal cords. 

His body jumped to life, he felt things. Light. Wind. Everything was so stronger he believed he may actually die. Now. He was so close. He only needed another half an hour. Maybe more. He just needed time. He needed pity. The world would not listen to the cries of a killer. Ornstein killed so many. He gave them honourably deaths but now he wasn’t so sure he could continue to do so. 

His eyes snapped open. His body moved on it’s own. Bones scraping against his flesh as he moved so quickly. The clang of metal rang through his ears. The slicing of flesh. The hitched breath of death. He became aware. 

He was back at the bell, standing up now right next to it. Just below him was fog. One arm was extended out in front of him clutching the straight sword of the cleric girl, Athena. His eyes traced over the sword and into the flesh it was plummeted in. 

Blood seeped through the blue fabric of Athena’s cleric garb, her eyes so wide in pain and shock. Tears spilt from her eyes; blood spilt from her body. She let out a gasp before falling, her sword sliding out of her body as she fell. Ornstein killed her. 

The dragon slayer watched her body fall, her feet slipped out from underneath her and she feel off the platform. The fog faded her body as she plummeted through it so quickly. A snap and crack was heard from the ground below the fog. Ornstein didn’t care. Problem solved. She was dead. 

He sheathed the sword at his hip and stepped towards the bonfire yet again. On the ground was the remainder of her inventory that she had chucked aside moments before for him. 

On the ground laid a journal, disgusting. A half-filled bottle of estus, a blooming moss clump and a purging stone. Useless. 

He was going to die fighting whatever beast she spoke of. He didn’t care. His fingers grasped at each item and tucked them away on his person before rising yet again. 

The bonfire flickered in mockery at him. He was going to die. The fire raged around the coiled sword of the bonfire, screaming at him. 

If only he could scream back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: princelothric2  
> Tumblr: holyprincelothric  
> Instagram: pontiffslutyvahn


	10. This ends here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at the end lads, this has been a wild ride and I'm forever greatful for all of the comments and kudo. Thank you so much for pushing me to finish this story and I hope you enjoy the final chapter  
>  (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )

On the stone ground laid a journal, a half-filled bottle of estus, a blooming moss clump and a purging stone. Ornstein’s eyes traced over each item in from of him, studying them closely. The Journal was wrapped in dark brown leather which kept all the yellow tinted pages in tact. It looked extremely worn and torn, probably having been through many battles along side it’s owner... Who laid dead at the bottom of the platform Ornstein was situation on. He swallowed, there was something itching at the back of his mind. He felt as though something terrible had just happened but he couldn’t understand why. 

Athena, the cleric girl was an unkindled. Unfit to even be ash, she deserved death. Or at least that’s what Ornstein thought but that didn’t matter now. He must organise himself and go forward, find Gwynsen and finally rest. His throat hurt so bad, it felt like he had torn a hole in his neck from his desperate screams for the man. It wouldn’t be for nothing; he would find him. 

Everything was tucked away in the pocket spaces under his flauds. Everything except the journal. He needed a moment to reorganise his thoughts and he figured he could have a look through it while he sat here. 

His metal fingers danced over the soft leather cover, opening it yet again and flipping through the pages. Just like before when he read it there were diagrams of places where Athena had travelled to. Lothric kingdom, the undead settlement, irithyll and many beast she had seen on her travels. One appeared to be a large man with a cage of his back, dressed in shags and holding a long blade that would usually be used for cutting tree logs between two people. Ornstein didn’t believe she wouldn’t beaten it, she appeared so weak. 

Another couple of pages and she found pages about dragons, more specifically the path of the dragon. It made Ornstein stop and begin to read. It spoke of men turning into dragons through deep meditation and the right amount of mental illness. It made the dragon slayer sick, why would anyone want to turn into those things? More importantly why were the dragons here so different? They never attacked Ornstein. They just seemed to check him out before leaving him be. We’re they like guards? Did they recognise him? He didn’t care. 

Another thought came to his head. The serpent men could maybe be a result of what happens when humans try to turn into dragons but fail. He guessed. It was be the most likely explanation. Ornstein took in a deep breath and sighed. He hated it here. Another couple of pages he flipped through, more monsters, more land, more... No. No. No. No. No. 

Ornstein’s eye stared wide eyes at the pages in front of him, his lips quivered. He was going to be sick. In front of his face was a large drawing of a sun, specifically the symbol of the sunlight covenant. Gwynsen’s covenant. Ornstein, the faithful knight of the sun’s first born had slaughtered one of the covenant members that was devoted to his prince. He had killed a covenant member in cold blood, a dishonourable death. Blood spilt for no reason besides hatred. Ornstein felt like he would be sick. He had yet again betrayed Gwynsen. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out and kills him once they reunite, right? 

He couldn’t do anything, right could he? He convinced Gwyn that the prince of sunlight was taking advantage of him and now he killed someone that was faithful to that same prince. It was only now, as the droplets fell onto the paper that Ornstein realised, he was crying. He slammed the Journal shut and held it tightly between his hands. Enough of this. 

Slowly the lion rose to his feet. A battle was coming but he just did not know it yet. His breath rattled his aching bones, rest was coming. Whether it was through the cradling hands of death or the warm comfort of sunlight, Ornstein would not complain. He just needed to finish his mission. Find Gwynsen. 

Enough of this. 

With one swift movement Ornstein threw the journal into the raging bonfire, watching it eat away at the leather and paper like a hungry beast. It ripped and tore at the pages; the writing being erased just like his beloved prince was. Never to be seen again. Yet just like his beloved prince, it would remain deep in his mind. It felt tattooed on his brain cells, diging deep within his mind. He sniffled, the space behind his eyes burnt with tears yet to be shed. He forced them back, they would be spilt later when he was in copy of his prince. He hoped so at least. 

Eyes wandered over to the area just outside where the bonfire sat. The sky was loud, the clouds shaped like fingers raking through the deep grey colour. It screamed hatred, unwant. Ornstein was not welcome here. He knew this but he could not leave. He felt so close. He knew he couldn’t turn back now. He was almost there. It was only now that Ornstein noticed the rain that had begun to pour down outside his shelter. Maybe it was tears. Maybe the clouds felt something for him. Maybe. 

His steps were so loud in his ears, the clanking of his armour rang through the air just like that bell he forced...her... To ring. She’s dead now. Her blood seeps into this place, deep into the stone of the ground beneath the ancient bell. She lays unmoving, unfeeling, unbreathing. Her eyes lack feeling, colour, meaning. Athena is nothing but a shell of a cleric that once inhabited that casing. It didn’t matter now. Ornstein had killed one of his own, one of the sunlight covenant and if would rot his soul. 

The steel of his worn boots scraped across the ground as he took such weak steps, he had to save his energy. A fight was coming and he didn’t know if he could survive. He hoped everything he read in that disgusting Journal was a lie, a fable. Something to scare children into not looking under their beds rather than something that held truth in its writing. It gave him fear, have his heart a sound. He could feel his heartbeat in his throw. He was so scared. 

No. 

He should turn back. He doesn’t belong here. What is he doing? Has he gone mad? This will not end well for him. Yet he needs to go. He needs to go through the fog. It might kill him. It will kill him. He will die like her. He’s insane. No, he needs to run. He needs to go. He needs to. Go. Go now. Run. He needs to turn back. He needs to go home. He needs to leave this place- 

“SHUT UP!” 

Oh. He can hear us, you and i. 

Ornstein screamed at the top of his lungs; his voice barely audible. It was scratchy and deep, lost. Gone. Just like his prince but this didn’t hurt as much. A coughing fit soon followed his screams, his throat burning in agony from the abuse it had to go through again and again for the dragon slayer's ability to speak.

* * *

Ornstein took a leap of faith, down into the fog that the cleric girl once fell through. Something inside of him told him to trust it and he did. Cats always land of their feet and he just proved that to be true, both of his steel covered boots landing smoothly on the fog flooring. It made a strange noise, it almost didn’t sound real but Ornstein knew this wasn’t the case. Everything he was feeling was real, he had felt the escape of reality. This was different. He could hold this in his hands and feel it, smell it, taste it. The taste of the wind that rushed past his ears, making his deep red locks whip behind his head. The strange noises his feet made as he began to take cautious steps forwards towards the fog wall. 

He was so slow, so freighted but he had hope. Where did this hope come from? His vision of Gwynsen maybe? Or was it the constant warmth in his finger that gently licked at his skin. That ring felt like a small person hugging his finger, telling him everything was going to be okay. The ring began to speak yet again. He recognised the voice. It was deep, warm, comforting. Its tongue had that fade of the gods amongst its breath, so hot against his skin. He didn’t dare take off the ring, he needed it to ground himself. 

The ring said few words, Ornstein didn’t expect more from it. Just the acknowledgement of being.  
“You’re close to me, my love” 

His gauntlet covered hand smacked against his chest plate, Ornstein holding it so deathly close. It was Gwynsen. His voice. How long was he talking to him? Why didn’t he say anything sooner? Why? 

“I shall explain everything soon. Please, clear your mind. Only then shall you walk forward. Do not be afraid” 

Fear. It clung to the back of Ornstein’s body, scraping its nails down his flesh until blood seeped out of the wounds. He hated the feeling. It made him vulnerable and weak. His thoughts would become sporadic and he would fail if he didn’t clear his mind. Gwynsen was right. They can sit together soon, hand in hand and they can talk until their voices stopped working. It was going to be okay. His hand shock so violently, clattering against his chest plate as he began to breath heavily. Lungs so desperate for air that they pushed roughly against Ornstein’s rib cage. 

Golden fingers, shining brightly against the dim light of the storm he was trapped helplessly in. Fog surrounding ever inch of space he could look at with his bloodshot eyes, a taunt, a front. The fog was always here to intimidate, nothing more, nothing less. It was a challenge for the unkindled ones, ‘are the souls worth enough to go through hell again and again?’ the fog would ask time and time again to them. They would always agree and carry their beings through the fog again and again until the deed was done or the deed had done them. 

Ornstein extended his arm towards the fog door, his fingers just barely touching the surface of the Smokey substance. It flowed around his small indents, unbothered by his presence. The dragon slayer's free hand snapped to his waist and to the straight sword strapped there, a comforting item. It was a key that would unlock his final fight, his final destination, his last stop before victory but Ornstein didn’t know it yet. His lungs expanded, a deep breath coming in through his nose as his eyes fluttered shut. He had to compose himself. He exhaled through his mouth, some of his breath fluttering the fog slightly as he did so. 

Ornstein breathed slowly, calmly. The fog breathed back, in unison their eyes opened as his golden legs pushed forwards through the door. The smoke was lifted and he found himself in a new area, the thick fog that painted the grounds went on for so long. The storm above him raged on, the clouds so dark and rage filled as they rumbled in disagreement. They hated him, he was not welcome here. 

Off in the distance was a large building made of old stones just like everything in this place. Old, cracking, worn and with a natural grey colour to them. Almost like a border, multiple dragon statues were placed on either side of the fogged grounding. Their heads were tilted down in sorrow, their eyes holding so much emotion that Ornstein knew was impossible from such putrid beasts. It didn’t surprise him that they would be depicted in this sort of way, this was a place of dragon worship. Of course they’d be shown with emotion, human emotion to be exact otherwise the mortals would have nothing to trust in them. Well, besides the fact that these creatures would kill them in an instant. Ornstein felt his lips press into a frown as he thought and studies his surroundings. Everything was so dark and gloomy, so cloudy from the sudden storm that raged over head. 

A deafening screech echoed through the air, cutting through in thick sound waves right into Ornstein’s ears. It was so loud that he thought he might go deaf. The Dragon slayer whipped his head around to meet where the sound came from, what he saw made his bones shiver and his muscles contract. Before he eyes, a storm drake flew down to the fogged ground. It’s feet slamming into the ground, disrupting the fog and making it shudder out from the impact. The beast stared at Ornstein with it’s disgusting black eyes, so thin with bloodlust as it inspected the knight. It was so large, having four wings and completely covered in deep faded blue feathers. On the head of the creature, two horns protruded out, almost looking like ram hours. Everything happened so fast that his body desperately begged him to slow down, to take in information but he couldn’t. 

The Storm drake took off again, rising into the air with a speed that Ornstein had never seen from a beast of its nature. Especially in such a intense storm, he assumed that because of the extra wings the creature held it was easier for it to maneuver in the environment. The Dragon Slayer gripped tightly onto his straight sword. This would be a battle, he wasn’t used to the move set required for a straight sword. He would slay the beast. It’s in his blood. There is no fear. He will be victorious. Ornstein has been beaten down again and again here. This is the moment to prove himself against the beasts that he was destined to slay. This is the moment to prove himself to Lord Gwyn. 

With such dangerous speed the Drake dived in in Ornstein, it’s eyes dark an determined to spill some of the Dragonslayer's blood. When the beast dived down towards Ornstein, it rushed past his body instead of taking direct impact on the man. A strong rush of wind ran through the lion Knight’s ears, it was loud and unsettling. He didn’t have time to take in what had just happened, before he knew it he was flying through the air and rolling backwards on the fogged ground beneath him. The impact sliced through the air; the sound was so distinct that Ornstein remembered what it was the instant it hit his ears. The impact, that sound, did not belong to the beast. It was not natural, it was a manufactured sound from a creation of man. A weapon. 

Eyes, bloodshot and wide peered at the storm drake. Then he saw it. Him. 

Gwynsen. 

Perched on top of the storm drake, a sword spear in hand was the sun’s first born, god of war, lover of the great Dragonslayer Ornstein. Gwynsen. His name erased and his body banished from any lands documented by Lord Gwyn. His wild white hair fanned out behind his head, long and untamed. The god of war looked more like an animal than a man, his clothes ragged and his skin dark with the curse of hollowing. Leathery and wrinkled, deep blue skin covered his body from head to toe. It was disgusting but Ornstein couldn’t help but feel love in his chest for the man he was fighting before him. His lover. His god of war. His savour. His prince. Right before him. 

Ornstein couldn’t move, back firmly planted against the ground. He didn’t want to move. His eyes, so exhausted and dark loomed over Gwynsen. His pupil dilated, his mouth left pursed and twitching into a smile full of love. The dragon slayer heard the familiar whispers of his ring, screaming at him to get up, screaming at him to SAVE Gwynsen. 

Why would Ornstein save something from being so beautiful? 

The way the dragon slayer's body laid limo against the floor would’ve made Gwyn disgusting in his defeat. But this is not defeat, no. Ornstein's strong gauntlet covered hand gripped onto the straight sword in his hand and he threw it aside. He was finished. 

He wants to die by his lover’s hand. 

Ornstein’s hair was fanned out around his face, a sun being displaced on the floor by it. He stared into the eyes of death and felt nothing but love and admiration for it. Death would be comforting. 

The storm drake snarled and took off into the sky again, it’s wings expanded out wide and full formed. It’s feathers rustled deeply from the storm raging overhead, the wind whipping through them and disturbing their blue colour. 

It’s deep, black eyes stared down at Ornstein. It was all the dragon slayer could concentrate on until he saw it. His eyes stung, his smile so wide and now turning into a smile of sadness and regret.  
Ornstein never saw his body as anything but a vessel, a tool even. His body was used to destroy and protect. Protect his loved ones and allies by destroying anything in their path. This body of his however was screaming in agony, begging for the release of death by his lover’s hands. Ornstein didn’t care, he needed this. He needed him. He needed death. This was the ultimate punishment for his sins. He let Ciaran die. He let Artorias become consumed. He let Gough rot away in a tower. This was his final breath, his final fight. His final battle. He chose to fight his final battle with Gwynsen. It may have not been a good or fair fight but he didn’t care. He wanted him. Now. 

The flashed of lightning from behind the storm drake’s head hurt Ornstein already sore and wet eyes, the shade of yellow so aggressive and vibrant that it threatened to blind the dragon slayer. 

His chest heaved up and down. He sobbed. He stared into the face of death and sobbed. His voice, so horse and scratchy from his screams was forced to speak up yet again. For his final breath he breathed a beg of forgiveness. His final breath. 

“My Lord” he sobbed. The storm drake began to dive directly at Ornstein this time. The god of war held his sword spear tightly in his hands and raised his weapon over head, lightning exploding from the tip of it. 

Ornstein forced his eyes open, to watch his death. 

“Prithee... Forgive me. Lord Gwyn.” Ornstein cried; his eyes focused of Gwynsen now. “Prithee forgive thy son... Forgive me for my sins” 

The sword spear came down to Ornstein’s body, the lightning rippling through the Dragonslayer's body and going straight through his body. Blood exploded from his vessel of a body, his screams unheard by the loud crackling of the Lord’s power. His bone snapped, crackled, popped out of his body as his armour exploded off his body. His limbs ripped from his body and his ribs snapped open in an instant, his blood painting the storm drake and the Lord in a cruel death. The man’s blood soaked through the fog and dripped beyond its barrier, coating the stones underneath their grounding with the contents of his body. 

Breathing void. Breathing Dragon slayer. Breathing ring. Breathing mind. Breathing eyes. Breathing skin. Breathing memory. Breathing armour. Breathing bell. Breathing lord. Breathing lover. Breathing blood. Breathing storm drake. Breathing bones. Breathing death. Breathing emotion. Breathing betrayal. Breathing love. Breathing future. Breathing dragon. Breathing blood. Breathing sweat. Breathing lungs. Breathing bones. Breathing. Gasping. Clenching. Unclenching. Flexing. Relaxing. Mind expanding. Tongue moving. Eyes opening. Hair flowing. Skin touching. Steel cutting. Memories connecting. Void becoming. Dark was surrounding. Voice speaking. Bones cracking. Blood dripping. Fog disappearing. Armour sizzling. Light shining.

* * *

Hawkeye Gough, skilled archer. Locked away in a tower and left to turn to stone. Artorias the abyss walker, consumed by the abyss. The Lord’s blade, Ciaran joined him in death having been killed by the chosen undead. Dragon slayer Ornstein, captain of the four Knights of Gwyn ran from his duties once his fellow knights had fallen. He had gone mad, speaking of a man that didn’t exist and saying a ring was talking to him. He later fell by the Lord’s hands, his blood staining arch dragon peak and his screaming echoing through the grand town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: holyprincelothric  
> Twitter: AdemAfraid  
> Instagram: pontiffslutyvahn


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